Flight to Freedom
by Qwerty-man
Summary: Post WOL. With Kerrigan, Raynor's Raiders join up with their forgotten friends the Protoss as they unite to battle the Dominion, zerg and the elusive Dark Voice. The flight to freedom is nigh. CHAPTER 42 IS UP
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Starcraft series

**Author's note: Before we begin, I'd like to say that while Starcraft 2 has a decent, if not cheesy, story, the character development and motivations are completely backwards. If this were to appear in any other medium of entertainment, it would be unacceptable. In this story, I'll try (and maybe fail) to correct this.**

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"Warning: class 12 psi signature detected."

"Shit!" cursed Jim Raynor, ducking behind cover as more hydralisk spines continued to rain down.

Raynor retreated up to the high ground where the command post was located. Tychus was manning a giant Gatling gun which managed to take down a persistent Ultralisk who had been pounding at their gates for quite some time. General WarField nodded at Raynor briefly before continuing to use his new artificial arm canon to great effect. The experienced war veteran climbed over the glowing Xel'Naga artifact and went to his friend.

Raynor tapped Tychus on the shoulder. "Kerrigan is coming!"

"Let that bitch come," yelled Tychus. "I'll mow her down like the rest!"

"We can barely hold the lines as it is!" roared Warfield. "I'm moving the forward siege tanks to the high ground. We can't let her breach our bunker line!"

Jim Raynor scrambled over to his communications hub and quickly established a link with his tactical commander, Matt Horner.

"It's hell down here Matt! How does it look from above?"

"No better," replied Horner. "That last Xel'Naga artifact pulse was premature. We won't be able to activate it again for a long time. There must be thousands of zerg converging on us, not to mention Kerrigan."

Horner scanned the battlefield desperately. "We've lost one of the eastern bunker clusters. Our boys repelled the attack but we got a giant hole in our defensive line."

"Well we'll just have to pull some more marines to the frontline," said Raynor over the gunfire.

"We can't! I've got marine escorts running supply drops to the forward siege tanks. The SCVs will get torn apart without them. And god knows what will happen if we lose the tanks. We have no one to spare"

"Great," muttered the former Marshall.

"That's not it sir," continued Horner. "We've lost contact with the ghost we sent to nuke the zerg outpost to buy us more time. The Western siege tanks are under fire from the remaining zerg air fighters. And there are more Nydus worms popping up behind our ranks. Sooner or later, our Battlecruisers won't be able to keep up with them."

Raynor snapped into command mode. "Alright we got to assume the ghost is dead. Call 2 squads of War Pigs from orbit to reinforce the siege tanks. Get some Reapers to set charges at the forward bunkers. Collapse all of our forces to my position at the high ground command center. Use every Banshee you've got to cover the retreat."

Raynor closed the communications hub. Grabbing a nearby Goliath and two marines, he made his way down the slopes of the high ground to the lower level where he saw dozens of marines falling back to the high ground. The Banshees screamed overhead and shot every zerg they could see. Encouraging his soldiers on, Raynor ran to one of the few still-standing buildings. Inside the factory, he spotted his chief engineer Rory Swann.

"Swann, we're falling back to the high ground," shouted Raynor. "Get all the SCVs onto the factory and lift off. Head back to the Hyperion. Most of the zerg air threats should be gone."

Swann nodded and started preparing the building for liftoff. Exiting the Factory, Raynor told his men to head back to the command post. As they began moving, a lone Mutalisk dove in to attack. The Goliath swivelled his Hellfire missiles to deal with the threat. Before he could, the Mutalisk let loose a salvo of glave wurms.

One of the marines used his weapon to shield his visor from the acidic attack. The Goliath quickly fired off 3 Hellfire missiles and destroyed the zerg flyer. Raynor let a sigh of relief which was short lived as he felt the earth rumble around him. A few feet away from him, a huge monstrosity erupted from ground. The Goliath struggled to keep its footing.

The marine who had shielded his face, did not have time to react. His left side was pierced by one of the creature's teeth. He screamed in pain. Raynor leaped up and did the only thing he could.

He handed the nearly dead marine a D-8 explosive charge. "Give em' hell."

"Yes sir," said the dying man. He painfully pulled himself from the creature's tooth. Inside, he could hear the zergling sprinting through the creature.

He armed the explosive and leapt into the mouth of the beast. The Nydus Worm exploded from the inside out. Having no time to spare for grievances, Raynor alongside his remaining marine and Goliath, ran back to the high ground.

Behind him, he could hear more Nydus Worms erupting. Raynor dared not look back or he knew he would certainly see all the zerglings, roaches and hydralisks hot on his heels trying to get the chance to rip him to shreds.

On the cliff, Tychus swivelled his huge mounted weapon in Raynor's direction. The Marshall instinctively dove to the ground as Tychus made quick work of his pursuers. The bunkers placed on the high ground also covered Raynor as he and his men were the last to make it to the command post.

It seemed that the zerg attack wave had ceased and the exhausted Terrans were given some breathing room. Raynor surveyed the scene. There were just over a dozen siege tanks on the cliff edges for maximum range. Combat suits from both dead and surviving soldiers took up the rest of the area.

"Well old buddy, it doesn't seem like we'll be getting out of this," said Tychus, making his way over to Raynor. "I bet you wished that you banged that doctor while you had the chance."

Raynor smirked at his old friend's dry humour. 4 Medvacs had arrived at the high ground. Wounded marines were carried onto the shuttle by white armoured medics who were all surprisingly female and very flirty despite the situation. Some fresh troops exited the ship to refill the ranks. Most of them were Dominion soldiers. Tychus gave the medvac a long hard look.

"You know, I could always shoot you in the foot," said Raynor. "Then you could hitch a ride on the Medvac."

Tychus gave a deep chuckle. Raynor gave him a serious look.

"You're not joking?" asked Tychus. He paused for a moment. "Nah I reckon Horner would probably try and throw me off the ship if I came back without you Jimmy Boy. So I guess I'll just stick this one out with you."

"Thanks Tychus," said Raynor seriously.

The large man turned away. "Besides, you can hit the broad side of a barn. What makes you think you could hit my foot?"

Raynor turned to the troops. "Alright boys, we've been through a lot. We took the fight to the zerg. We fought a good fight and we have their dead carcasses as proof!"

A couple men cheered but others remained sombre.

"Now I know most of you know me as a criminal and a terrorist, but I want you all to know, you fellas are all medal-worthy in my books. We just undertook the largest frontal assault in Terran history. We leapt into the mouth of hell and killed more zerg than I ever knew existed. And we're still alive to show for it. Let's keep it that way."

Rejuvenated, the marines sprung to their feet and manned their positions with newly found vigour. Warfield walked towards Raynor.

"In another life, you'd have been my commander," said the general. "Let's finish this."

"Sir, according to Stetmann, the artifact should be fully functional in 3 minutes," said Horner.

"That seems like a lifetime right now," Raynor muttered to himself.

The full might swarm of the zerg had exploded from the ground and began their savage run towards the remaining terrans. Hundreds poured in from both the west and east. As soon as they got to the bunker lines, the charges detonated and hundreds more zerg vanished in an all-consuming cloud of fire.

"Ka-boom baby!" yelled a Marauder.

Despite the substantial loss, the zerg were undeterred several more hundred minions leapt over their fallen comrades towards the humans. Once they were in range, the siege tanks opened them up to the full power of the 120mm Shock Cannon. Seconds later, every gun on Char Sara fired. Zergling skulls were ripped open, the huge Hydralisks fell to the ground with fist sized holes in their worm-like bodies, but still the swarm continued to advance.

James Raynor squinted and he saw who led the attack. His old lover turned infested zerg leader was approaching. The first waves of zerglings had already reached the bunkers and were pounding away at its hard steel surface as the marines inside struggled to kill them. He looked at his watch and saw the timer was half finished.

"All siege tanks aim at the Queen of Blades!" yelled Warfield.

The gigantic rounds struck Kerrigan dead on. Minions all around here scattered from the impact but she merely had to regain her footing before continuing. Using her psionic powers, she lifted a tank in the air and sent it crashing onto several marines.

"Fire every round you've got!" yelled Raynor desperately to his men.

Kerrigan leapt up on the cliff and with one swipe of her blades, tore a gash into a bunker which zerglings were able to easily penetrate and kill the marines inside. Tychus was doing what he did best, but it wasn't enough. A firebat next to him was struck by hydralisk spines. Seeing the gasoline tank on his back, Tychus grabbed the dead man and hurled him into the zerg swarm. Several seconds later, the dead firebat exploded and burnt multiple zerg minions to a crisp.

"It's ready!" yelled Horner. "Use the artifact!"

Raynor rushed over. He leapt over a zergling clawing away at a marine. Using the activation technique Stedman had shown him, the ancient artifact glowed more brightly than ever before. All fighting stopped. Even Kerrigan was mesmerised.

And then the full power of the Xel'Naga was unleashed upon their Second Born. The zerg around them witnessed the blanketing blue-hued wave which engulfed them all. None but Kerrigan stood. She slowly put one foot in front of the other, still marching towards Raynor in particular.

"No!" she screamed. "You will not take her from me! I will destroy all of you!"

Thousands of rounds peppered her hard skin. The last siege tanks emptied their explosive missiles into the Queen of Blades. She was brought to her knees.

"She's mine!" snarled the zerg leader. "This vessel is beyond all of you. None here but I will have her!"

The Queen of Blades stood inches from Raynor. The blue wave was still present and hammering away at Kerrigan.

"It's over, Kerrigan," said Raynor.

With every muscle in his body, he leapt away as far as he could as a mighty bright Yamato Canon salvo engulfed Kerrigan and sent her flying into the distance.

Silence. And then mass outbreak of cheer. Every marine shouted in exuberance as loud as their lungs could handle. Some of the most battle-hardened men, broke down in tears. Raynor was brought to his knees. They had liberated Mar Sara. They had taken out the Queen of Blades. And they survived. And then something caught his eye. A few clicks away laid the smoking crater where the Yamato Cannon had carried the Queen of Blades.

Raynor turned to Tychus, who was already busting out the alchohol. He rounded up the men he recognized from his Raider group.

"There's something I need to take care of," said Raynor.

Tychus nodded. "It's about time we settled this whole thing."

The Yamato Cannon had carried more impact than Raynor had initially thought. It had carved a cavern like hole into a nearby mountain. Raynor, Tychus and his raiders activated their flash lights and raised their weapons despite the zerg extermination on the planet. The men had every right to be weary. This was where they'd find the most dangerous individual in the Korprulu Sector.

The rocks and dirt, plagued by years of subjection to the zerg creep, still carried the odour of the abomination race. Visors down and weapons up, the men cautiously ventured further into the cavern. And then, Raynor's eye caught a very small and delicate thing. A pale human hand reached from the ground. He moved over and saw her. Her body was as pale as the moon and he could hardly believe that moments ago she was capable of all she had done. For only a bald and naked woman was at Jim Raynor's feet.

Her eyes opened the slightest and truly saw for the first time in years. She was looking and seeing without the filter of a zerg infested mind. She attempted to move but could not. She had been lucky enough not to be killed by the Xel'Naga artefact. It was too much to hope that a Yamato Cannon on top of that would have left her unharmed.

A blury figure knelt beside her. Her eyes adjusted and she saw the one who she longed for.

"Sarah," said Jim quietly.

"Are you reading all this?" asked Tychus softly.

"You have your orders Mr. Finley now carry them out," said the voice into Tychus' helmet.

The huge man's weapon raised and his laser sight rested on Kerrigan's pale forehead. Raynor turned his head ever so slightly.

"Tychus, what have you done?" he asked his old friend.

"I made a deal witih the devil," replied Tycus roughly. "She dies, I go free."

"Don't do this Tychus," begged the kneeling man.

"It ain't like I got a choice, Jimmy. If I don't do this, I'll be chained to this armour forever, or worse."

"We all got our choices to make," said Raynor. "If you choose to stand down, I'll free you just like I freed her. We can do it Tychus. Just like old times."

"Like old times?" roared Tychus, "Maybe you don't remember, partner, but old times didn't work out in my favour. I served my time, AND yours! Not once did you hear me complain you know why? It's because I thought this friendship of ours went both ways! I went above and beyond for you Jimmy! Why the hell did you think I didn't want to come to Char? This is why! I didn't want to have to put you in this situation, old buddy but here we are."

His deep voiced echoed in the dark murky cave. Somehow, the other Raiders remained oblivious and continued to search for the mystical Queen of Blades. Raynor couldn't expect any back up on dealing with Tychus.

"You owe me, partner. You owe me my freedom!" he bellowed. "You gave me a taste, and now Mengsk is giving me the full deal. All that stands in the way is that thing!" he pointed a large metal finger at Kerrigan. "What are you going to do Jimmy? You gonna side with that bitch who's tried to kill us more than once? Or are you gonna stick by your old buddy Tychus who sacrificed damn near everything for you!"

"Let me ask you the same question!" shouted Raynor back. "Did you really think that I was taking you for granted? Don't think for a second, I ain't grateful for what you did on Mar Sara. Hell, even with my marshal position, I thought a dozen times about breaking you out! I had already told Swann, after this is over, we'd get you out of that armour. I was already planning to free you, Tychus! So now its come to this. What side are _you_ going to pick, Tychus? You gonna side with that bastard who's screwed all of us over more than once? Or are you gonna stick by your old buddy Raynor who would gladly give his life for you?"

Tychus waned. "You give me your word, that you'll free me. I want you to swear to me, you'll do it."

"I will," stated Jim, firmly. "I promise."

Slowly, Tychus lowered his rifle, and dropped it to his side. He tried to ignore the flashing red light beside his visor as well as block out the Emperor's voice in his head.

Raynor sighed in relief. Tychus then went rigid. He tried to move his body. He couldn't. He could hear the mechanical gears twisting and turning inside his cursed suit. His own body began to betray him. He felt his own arm lift without his consent, and his finger moving back towards the trigger. Old Mengsk always had a card left to play.

"Sorry Jimmy," said Tychus sadly. "Guess I didn't have a choice after all."

The gunshot rang and was followed by another.

Raynor rushed to his friend. Removing his helmet, Raynor saw the blood gushing from Tychus' neck.

"Well I'll be damned," chuckled Tychus painfully, "It seems you _can_ hit the broad side of a barn. Sorry about the trouble old buddy."

"Don't worry Tychus, we'll get you out of this," said Raynor to his friend.

"It ain't no use," sighed Tychus. He rolled his head and coughed out some blood. "I can feel my suit doing something to my insides. It's over for me."

"Come on, Tychus," whispered Raynor desperately. "Don't you die on me now. God damn it, we just beat the Queen of Blades! The fighting's over, you can't die now! Just hold on-"

"Hand me one last cigar," he said quickly.

Lighting it, Raynor handed his friend one last smoke. The smoke filled the air, and Raynor's irritated eyes began to water. Tychus grinned.

"Don't you be going soft on me old buddy."

"Don't count on it," replied Jim, busting out a smile.

"I told you I'd be here till the end, or at least my end," Tychus said weakly. He struggled to say one last thing. "Like you said Jimmy...it's like...like..."

His jaw slacked and the burning cigar fell from his mouth.

Raynor rose. "Like old times."

He turned to Kerrigan.

"I've gotta say this." The former ghost focused her eyes on him. "Maybe it's more for me than you. I do love you darling. Truly, I do. But not enough to let billions of people die. If you were in my arms a couple weeks ago, I wouldn't have let you walk out of this cave."

Sarah struggled to speak, but years of not controlling her own voice had taken its toll.

"I don't know who you are," Raynor said. "I don't know what's worse. Are you still the Queen of Blades? Or were you Sarah all along?"

Raynor heard his men coming down into the cave.

"I haven't given up on you yet darling, but understand, I ain't saving you for your sake. I'm not even saving you for my sake. I'm saving you for every other living thing in this universe."

A single tear fell from the corner of Sarah's eye.

Gently, Raynor picked her frail body up in one hand. Pausing, he lifted Tychus on his shoulder and began to walk out of the cave. Some of Sarah's motor skills had returned. As she saw her first star in years, she shielded her face. The hot sun was harsh to her pale form.

"Jim," she whispered.

"It's alright," he said, surveying the battlefield, "I got you."

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**Author's note: Alright, the following chapters will be alot less combat focused, and more to do with the characters. Remember, I write these chapters in bulks, so I've already finished 5 or 6 chapters already. Please Read and Review and let me know if this story is awesome, or a complete train wreck.**


	2. Chapter 2

The sun shined brightly on the volcanic grounds of Char. The creep was slowly disappearing. And underneath was grey, unnourished, but potentially harvest-worthy earth. The huge mountains of creep began to fall away, revealing even more disappearing creep. The surface of Char had been scared by the purge of the Protoss. Now that the hindrance of the creep was gone, this small planet had already begun to recover from its deep wounds inflicted by all 3 races. Protoss energy, zerg corpses, and terran ammunition violently clashed with one another on the surface of this sphere volcano. And the terrans had come out on top. As Raynor looked upwards, he saw the remainder of the Dominion fleet, circling in high orbit. Jim definitely could have thought of some more useful ways those Battlecruisers could have contributed to the fight.

Raynor spotted Swann nearby. He called his trusted friend over. The meaty man's initial shock of seeing Tychus dead on Raynor's shoulder was little compared to how his heart skipped a beat as he saw the former Queen of Blades, looking so small and delicate.

"Jesus, what happened in there?" he demanded.

"I'll explain later. Swann we need to get Sarah up to the Hyperion now. Don't alert anyone you don't have to."

Before that day, Swann would have questioned Raynor's sanity. But after he had went into the Nydus tunnels, side by side with his commander, the older man had far more respect for his commander. He nodded to Raynor and called down a dropship. He quickly moved the frail woman onboard and climbed in himself. Raynor prepared to do the same.

"Raynor!" Warfield marched over to him almost looking happy. "Prince Valerian is waiting on us."

Swann lifted the dropship off and Raynor regrettably stayed behind. Annoyed and anxious, the two commanders arrived at the repaired communications hub.

"Well commander it looks like we did it," said Prince Valerian proudly.

"We?" Raynor narrowed his eyes.

"Well, I meant only in tactical command," the young Junior replied.

"You mean when you made the tactical decision to lose half of our forces in the initial assault?"

"Well as long as you are skipping the pleasantries, I will do the same. General Warfield get your men and detain Mr. Raynor," ordered the Prince.

"What the hell is this?" asked Raynor angrily.

"You didn't really think my goal was to gain political favour from this, did you?" the young man grinned widely. "What kind of idiotic motive would that be? My father and I played you from the beginning. We used you to defeat the Queen of Blades and now we'll take both of you and make sure you are locked away. With you two out of the way, my father will have gotten rid of his two most dangerous enemies. And he'll regain his absolute rule over this sector which of course will be mine soon enough."

"Like father, like son I guess," said Jim. "You're a Mengsk. Betrayal is hardwired into your brain."

"Enough of this. Warfield, restrain him!"

The old general paused.

"Are you going to turn your back on me too?" Raynor asked the general. "We fought side by side while Junior over here watched from the safety of his flagship and your allegiance is still his?"

Warfield turned to Valerian. "I'm done taking orders from a voice in space that doesn't have the decency or the courage to come down to the battlefield. It's a test of character to see if you'll risk your life for your men, and you failed your highness. The Emperor has been fooling us all."

Raynor stepped forward, smiling, "You got a lot to learn Junior."

The young prince glared angrily.

"The situation has changed. The odds now stack in my favour. Will you run like your father?"

The screen went blank. "I guess that's a yes," Warfield said to Jim.

"I appreciate this general. I really do."

"That fool blackmailed me into coming out of retirement. I'd gladly sever ties with that arrogant and spoiled brat. Not to mention, it seems more beneficial to my health to be with someone who knows what the hell they're doing."

Raynor smiled. "Well we better get moving."

OOO

"How is she?" Raynor asked Stetmann.

"Well given the circumstances, I'd say she got off easy, but she's in real bad shape commander," said the young man. "But given her dangerous potential, such as her elaborate history of bringing death and chaos I can't say that this is a bad thing."

"I get it Stetmann," said the annoyed commander. "It looks like that Yamato cannon did a real number on her."

"I'm unable to accurately comment," said Stedman. "My doctorate was not in medicine."

Raynor sighed. Talking to Stetmann was as entertaining as talking to the adjutant.

"Sir is it really necessary for all these guards here?" asked the scientist. "They are getting in the way? My lab is very secure. I doubt our guest needs extra security."

"That's security for us, not for her," replied Raynor. "Just keep me posted on her condition."

The commander thought about going to the cantina and then decided against it. Every person on the ship must be there already, drinking their worth. Instead, he went back to the bridge where a lone figure stood.

"Friend Raynor, you have proved yourself to be ever resourceful. You have won a victory over the zerg in one of their primary bases of operation. The protoss could learn from your actions as they must already be planning the retaking of Aiur in the wake of the Queen of Blade's...incapacitation. You continue to amaze me, friend. And I am glad you heeded my warning."

"Zeratul," said Raynor smiling. "It's just like you to show up now. You know we could have used your help on Char."

"If I were there, I would have ended up as the zerg are now. The Xel'Naga artifact purges all of its creations not simply the evil ones."

"Did you come here simply to congratulate me old friend, or did you want some free beer?"

Zeratul gave a telepathic chuckle. "Even if I wanted your liquid poison, what would I have to consume it?"

"But I came as soon as my observer recorded your victory. A new Matriarch has been chosen. As the successor is a male his status has become Hierarch. Artanis has ascended to the position and has called an emergency meeting. All our forces are being called back to discuss the prophecy. I request your presence there."

"I'll be there if I can, Zeratul," said Commander Raynor. "But first we have to head to Haven. Like you said, if we lose Kerrigan, it's the end of the world right? I got a doctor and recent zerg expert who will help me treat her."

"Ah, Haven. I heard what you did there."

Raynor scratched the back of his head. "Well...you know..."

"Fear not old friend. We protoss do not hold grudges against one who has fought alongside of us in the past, though Executor Selendis is none too pleased with you. In either case Haven is a protoss world. We shall meet there."

The old protoss vanished in a cloud of black smoke. A slightly intoxicated Matt Horner stumbled into the bridge. Handing Raynor another cigar, they stood in silence for a moment.

"I heard about Tychus," said Horner finally. "I'm sorry. I knew he was an old friend."

"You were right Matt," grunted Raynor. "The entire thing was a trap. We played right into Mengsk's hands."

"Maybe, but look what we accomplished. We got a sizeable Dominion Battle Group on our side, not to mention we just gave the zerg a blow so hard, it'll take months for them to recuperate their losses. So what's our next move sir?" asked Horner eagerly. "We have General Warfield's entire battalion on our side. There are an unlimited amount of targets we could strike to sabotage Mengsk. I reckon after Tychus, you'd be itching for a little revenge."

"Like you said, Mengsk will have to wait," said the aging commander. "We're meeting Doctor Hanson on Haven."

OOO

Incessant chatter woke Kerrigan from her deep slumber. She opened her eyes and let the light consume her. Even if it was artificial, Kerrigan felt momentary bliss, akin to the moment she was freed. But that too soon faded more quickly than it had come. She slowly turned her head to either side. The room was completely white and sterile. Luckily she found herself more modest than the last time she had awakened. A very small window gave her access to the world beyond her strange room.

Trying to stand up, Kerrigan winced in pain. She stared at her arms which were punctured with more needles and tubes than she could count. She ran her smooth hands on her head and found out surprisingly that her fiery red hair had begun to grow once again. Though it was only a small layer, Sarah smiled, or at least tried. On her head was also a very strange object. She felt it with her hands, trying to remove it, but it was held in place. Thinking hard, she guessed what it was.

"Don't try to make any sudden movements," said a calming female voice. "Your body is still recovering. And please don't tamper with the psionic dampener. It is for your own protection."

Again, Kerrigan had to consciously move all the muscles in her mouth to formulate words. "Where am I?" she croaked.

"You are on the planet Haven. I am Doctor Ariel Hanson. You were brought to me by Commander Raynor. I'll be making sure you recover."

_"Jim!"_

"Where is he?" Sarah asked desperately. "Where is Jim?" She stood up again. This time she was able...momentarily. Seconds passed before she collapsed to her knees. The doors hissed open and two ghosts silently marched in and helped her, albeit cautiously, back into her bed.

"Don't over-exert yourself Miss Kerrigan. We don't want to give these jarheads anymore reason to want to kill you."

Kerrigan tried to protest, but already she felt herself succumbing to the cold, dreamless void of sleep. She had been sleeping for over half a decade. She'd be damned if she spent one more moment unconscious. Alas the anaesthetic overpowered the still frail mind.

"I'm applying a sedative. Don't worry Miss Kerrigan. Be patient."

The patient's eyes closed once more let the complications of the outside world continue without her.

OOO

"Unacceptable!" roared a high templar. "We have surrendered much of our world to the terrans already. We will not stand for the increasing danger they bring upon us. Forget the huge fleet of Terran ships docked in our bays. What about the Queen of Blades on our very earth? The terran Hanson was able to quarantine the zerg infestation in her people but she will not find similar luck in redeeming the fallen Kerrigan."

"It is not up for debate," stated Zeratul coolly. "Nor is it your place to speak. We wait for the arrival of the Hierarch."

Jim sighed tiredly. He had had to fend off waves of Protoss protests of their and specifically Kerrigan's presence on Haven. He caught a glimpse of a small blue shimmer before a massive entity of gold and sapphire appeared. The mothership.

Even through Zeratul's vision, Raynor had not grasped the sheer enormity and power exuded by the flagship of the Protoss. The vessel gave off so much energy that Raynor could feel it several thousand feet below and could already sense that his understanding of the Protoss would never be complete. This enigmatic race would always be the mysterious Firstborns.

The ship descended slowly, hovering now only a couple hundred feet from the surface. More shimmers occurred, though in much smaller proportions and on the surface of the planet. These shimmers started taking specific forms. More defined features began forming until finally, Raynor faced the Protoss Hierarchy. There stood Artanis and his most trusted warriors.

Artanis stood much taller than Raynor, though his youth was still noticeable even through the eyes of a human, but that did not diminish from his grand appearance. His armour was decorated with blue jewels near the chest and shoulders. Artanis wore a very elaborate golden headpiece with a pointed ornament underneath his chin. All in all, Artanis, not to mention his mighty brethren behind him, was a sight to behold.

"En taro Tassadar my friend Raynor," spoke Artanis coming forward. "Your victory over the Queen of Blades has reenergized my kind. Come, we have much to discuss."

Raynor vaguely recognized some of the figures following Artanis. One in particular stood out. In the most disdainful way a Protoss could muster, Executor Selendis sent a death glare at Raynor before swiftly turning her head away and ignoring his very existence.

"Women," he muttered.

Nearby he heard the protoss talk amongst themselves.

"Have our prayers been answered?" asked one.

"It must be an act of the Xel'Naga themselves. Our greatest commanders have rallied to our home. Nevermind young Artanis, but Zeratul has returned!"

"He will play a key role our struggle," said another. "He is without a doubt the strongest Protoss we have ever seen."

"Have you heard the reports? Zeratul clashed with the Queen of Blades herself and returned unharmed."

Raynor walked past the telepathic conversation and entered the Great Hall of the Protoss world of Haven. As per usual Protoss architecture, vast symmetrical towers and giant arches were bathed in gold. Everywhere, Khaydarin crystals rested, hovering near the windows, rejuvenating all passing by with a faint blue hue.

"So this one Terran has triumphed over the Queen of Blades," spoke Prelate Urun. "I would have never thought it possible. One glance at their primitive starcraft and I deemed it not capable of flight, much less combat."

"Easy there," said Raynor gritting his teeth. "Our ships helped us out of tight spots more times than I care to remember."

"Perhaps, but it pales in comparison to my mighty Fleet of Phoenix," replied the proud Prelate.

"The terrans deserve more credit than is given to them," spoke the Prelate Mohandar. "They defeated our esteemed Executor Selendis. Is that not a testimony of their might?"

Raynor swore, he heard a feral female growl in his mind.

"It is not his skill that matters, but rather what his skills have procured," said the deep voice of the old Dark Templar.

"Zeratul!" the protoss gasped in unison.

"We received word that you were seen on Ulaan," spoke Artanis. "I am grateful that you have returned my friend. And thankfully, he is not the only friend returned," spoke Artanis. He turned to Raynor. "A familiar face has returned to us to help combat the zerg. An old comerade..."

A large immortal moved its mechanical legs and stopped in front of the Protoss Hierarchy.

"Twice dead, I have returned."

"Fenix," murmured Raynor in awe.


	3. Chapter 3

The terrans and Protoss were fairly segregated from each other and for that, Matt Horner was glad. He could already tell that the Dominion soldiers were already uneasy under the leadership of the infamous Jim Raynor. Although the R&R was welcomed, the mixture with a previous enemy race would not have good results. Currently, he was assisting Ariel Hanson with the overwhelming number of casualties suffered from the assault on Char. Legions of troops were being wheeled into her makeshift hospital.

"Alright, General, make sure you take two injections a day for a couple months," said the doctor.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," replied the gruff man. He spotted Horner.

"Is there something I should be worried about General?" asked Matt Horner.

"It's no problem. Some of the Hydralisk poison got into the rest of my system before they replaced my arm. Now I get to stab myself with this thing, once at breakfast, once at dinner, until the poison is out of my system. That boy, Stetmann said something about me being able to re-grow my arm with some zerg regenerative tissue or something. But I like my new cannon just fine. And it'll be a cold day in hell before I let anything zerg into my bloodstream again. My blood pressure is bad enough as it is."

Horner quickly rushed off to berate Stedmann. He found the young man already wheeling his two projects into a room.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Horner frantically. "Are you seriously thinking of bringing that zerg tank here?"

"Well, I will need the quality facilities provided by Doctor Hanson in order to finish my studies on the zerg and the Khaydarin crystal."

"Oh Jesus, you brought that too? Those stones are sacred to the Protoss! I don't think they'd be too pleased to see it floating around in your science tank like some experiment." Horner put his head in his hands. "Just be sure you take every precaution, alright?"

OOO

"As we know, the former Queen of Blades is here, safely in custody," announced Artanis to the rest of the Hierarchy and Raynor. "Thanks to Honorable James Raynor, the primary zerg base has been forever eradicated of the infestation. With the help of a Xel'Naga artifact, the Queen of Blades has been returned to her human form, though it is not certain whether her malicious intent remains. We must decide what to do with her."

"Killing her is not an option," said Raynor immediately.

"You may still have feelings for this terran," said Fenix. "And perhaps my judgement is clouded by the fact that she **killed** me, but Kerrigan proved to be a threat to all living things. We should expect nothing but deception from her. Her appearance may have changed but until proven otherwise, she is still the same enemy we have fought against for so long."

"Though personal feelings may motivate young Raynor, they do not motivate me," stated Zeratul. "The reason that no harm may come to the Queen of Blades, is that a prophecy has been made."

Zeratul recounted his journeys in exile, going into detail with his conversation with the mysterious appearance of Tassadar. Immediately the Protoss were on their feet in exuberance. The chance that their fallen hero was alive, added more fuel to the fire in the movement to take back the Homeworld. Outrage and telepathic roars followed Zeratul's message of an Overmind, unlike what any of them imagined.

"It is clear then," settled Prelate Urun. "Our hero's spirit has been poisoned by the tainted soul of the wretched Overmind. His words are disingenuous fabrications of the lingering beast. Even in death, the Overmind wishes to divide and destroy us with false premonitions and predictions of doom. We must pay no heed, and focus our efforts elsewhere, such as the retaking of Aiur."

"Tassadar would not easily succumb to the Overmind," said Artanis thoughtfully. "If the prophecy is true, what does fate have in store for us if the prophecy is not followed?

All looked to Zeratul.

"An unstoppable purge of fire is what awaits us, should Kerrigan die. I and Raynor have witnessed it with our own eyes. The end can be seen by any of you with my Khaydarin Crystal. Our armies rallied together in numbers far greater than in Aiur. Even so, we could not prevail. The zerg might, reinforced with the twisted power of the Hybrids proved too much. Urun was the first to fall with his Mighty Phoenix Fleet. Executor Selendis, you were next. And then it was Prelate Mohandar. Your void ray destroyed our last residential area upon explosion. Then our Hierarch Artanis met his end in the mighty Shield of Aiur."

The room was silenced with Zeratul's detailed description of doom. "I alone remained, guarding the library of knowledge for those who would come after. I witnessed the Hybrid destroying hundreds of our brethren. Upon doing so, after every Protoss had fallen, he purged the zerg, effortlessly and methodically."

"And where were our so called allies, the Terrans, in this vision?" asked the still sceptical Selendis.

Raynor spoke. "According to the prophecy, we had already been...consumed by the zerg."

"Then my decision is immediate," said Artanis. "If nothing else, Kerrigan will remain alive, unharmed. Friend Raynor, I trust you will not let her run free."

"Trust me, I've taken every possible precaution to make sure she can't do anything without our consent," replied Raynor. "She'll be under constant watch under my two best psionic units as well as being constantly drained of any psionic energy."

"At the time being, until we know more about the prophecy and how to circumvent it, we should turn our attention to an opportunity that has arisen with Raynor's victory," pressed Fenix.

Prelate Urun nodded. "With the loss of their Queen of Blades, the Zerg are leaderless and divided. If there was a time to reclaim Aiur, Hierarch, it would be now."

"I agree," said Zeratul. "In my short visit, the legions of Zerg during the initial invasion have all but departed. All that remains are the sizeable but unorganized zerg minions around the corpse of the Overmind. It is time to strike and restore Aiur."

"Then I shall begin to muster our forces," said Executor Selendis enthusiastically.

All heads turned to Hierarch Artanis. "Very well, send word to all Protoss ships. They are to return to Shakuras and begin immediate preparations for an invasion of Aiur. Our forces must consolidate if we have any hope of driving the zerg from our home. Let us make haste. En Taro Tassadar!"

OOO

Days passed and blurred together. Inside the always lit room, Kerrigan lost concept of time. She received three meals a day from one of the nameless ghosts, who would leave as quickly as they entered. Most days she would be in pain, having only the voice of Doctor Ariel Hanson to soothe her. Her system was flowing with drugs. According to the doctor, they had to remove the zerg from her very DNA, which it had attached to. The process was long and painful. All the while, Sarah's only salvation was the small glass platform that Ariel Hanson walked by from time to time. But Sarah was not looking for her.

Everyday, the next treatment would start. She would turn her head to the platform, hoping. Always hoping. In the countless days, the hope had not materialized. But still she continued. Sarah clung to that hope as much as she clung to her life. She was living for the moment she'd see him on the platform, staring concernedly at her.

The doctor's voice had begun to blur with the time. Kerrigan stopped caring. Her only salvation was the platform. The door hissed, which drew Sarah's attention. Stetmann came in wheeling a large tank. Sarah's eyes went wide and she struggled to breath. Her face drained of all blood and she was as pale as a ghost. Her work-in-progress vocal chords couldn't even muster the strength to scream. And if she could, she would have. She would have screamed her lungs out until her ears bled and the windows shattered. Sarah dared not look directly, but dared not look away in fear of what would happen. Trembling from head to toe, she tried to muster her psionic powers but they failed her. Sarah had withstood the Protoss, the Confederacy and the Zerg. Nothing had frightened her more than right now.

Stetmann had his back turned. The tank moved. Ever so slightly, but it moved. And then again. Closer and closer to Kerrigan it came. Her body shook with fear. The purplish tentacles sloshed around the tank, almost trying to escape its prison. The front wheels of the tank hit a cord. It toppled. In instinct, Sarah's hand reached out to stop the tank from hitting her. The moment her hand touched the tank, she had entered the nightmare.

Huge towers of steel soared above Kerrigan's head. A golden sky lit her face as she stared at the scene. In the distance, a figure came close. As it did, the magnificent terran architecture was engulfed into to the gigantic spires of creep. Sarah stepped back as the Queen of Blades came to her.

"Oh, how I missed you, darling," said the zerg woman with a sinister smile.

"Stay away!" screamed Sarah.

"Oh foolish girl," laughed the woman. "An ancient alien artifact could not separate us. What more could you possibly need as proof? We are destined to be one. No force in this universe will keep me from you."

"Don't come any closer," warned Sarah, her lip quivering.

"My poor child, has it really been that bad? We've had a rough patch here and there, but we always made it through didn't we? Don't tell me you did not enjoy seeing me throw around Mengsk's forces like a rag doll. Or how I racked your memories to make your enemies squirm."

"Jim," she whispered.

"Oh yes, and then there's him," said the zerg queen. "Even the all knowing Overmind did not foresee that complication. But it's laughable. After all I...after all we have done to poor James, you still cling to the hope that he loves you like he did before me. It is pitiful."

"I won't give up. He hasn't given up on me!"

"So he says!" roared the Queen of Blades. "Tell me child, who shielded you from the wrath of the celebrates when they wanted to be rid of us? Was it James? Did he save you when Mengsk revealed his treachery? He swore to us he'd kill you!"

"He swore he'd kill _you_!" lashed back the human form.

The zerg cackled. "After all this time, you are still ignorant to the truth. I know you have hid behind your wall of denial but no longer. We are one, child. As long as you exist, so will I. We will always be together you and I. And no ancient artifact, no deluded hero will take you from me. You will be mine until the moment that we part this world. And even then, we shall do so together. There's no escaping it, there's no delaying it. Embrace it."

Sarah fell to her knees. And for the first time in her life, she sobbed. She cried and cried for what seemed like hours, until her tears had run dry. Before her stood...herself. The greatest threat she had fought against for five years had been herself. Her foolish human mind had erroneously fabricated the notion of separate entities. They did not exist. Only she existed.

Not even when she was in the chrysalis, fighting off the unrelenting wave of zerg influence creeping into her mind, did Sarah Kerrigan feel as helpless as now. All her hard work had ended. Her constant fight against the assimilation of her mind, all the mental battles to regain her freedom, they had all been nothing more than the petty child dreams. There would be no shining night in armour to save her. How could you save someone from herself?

"Lay down your resistance, abandon your defences," whispered the zerg. "It seems you finally understand. You are and will never be human again. And soon we will be what we were before, the ultimate being in the universe. We will conquer and kill all who oppose us."

"I can't," whispered Sarah. "I can't go back to that. I won't."

An eyebrow was raised. "Who said it was ever your choice?"

"I won't be in the same position I was before," said Sarah louder. "I won't be powerless to watch you destroy everything."

"You forget who you speak to!" roared the Queen of Blades. "I am you. Would you bite the hand that feeds you? You never experienced true power before me! I made you a god. I saved you from danger! I destroyed your enemies!"

"You destroyed my friends," said Sarah with more resolve. A C-10 Canister Rifle materialized in her hand.

She looked at her surroundings surprisingly. She was in New Gettysburg. She was in the exact place she had lost her humanity and been consumed. But it would be different this time. She raised her rifle and pointed it at the Queen of Blades. Pulling the trigger, she looked down, shocked to see that there was no magazine.

"It's hopeless," said the zerg. "These games have grown old now, my child. Stand down or I will take you by force."

"I'm not yours to take," said Kerrigan. A magazine had appeared in her weapon. She squeezed the trigger for 3 seconds and let go.

The zerg was screaming and running full speed at her.

"I told you, you cannot fight this. I will be with you forever!" the Zerg screamed.

Again, Kerrigan pulled the trigger with more vigour. She didn't stop firing until the magazine dropped from the gun, empty. The bullet laden corpse of the Queen of Blades laid in front of her. Slowly, the zerg lifted her head weakly.

"You can't go...you can't leave," the zerg croaked.

Sympathy was almost warranted...almost. Raising the rifle, Kerrigan shot the Queen of Blades in the back of the head. She killed the Queen of Blades. Shakily, she dropped the gun and was forcefully brought back to reality.

The scene in front of her eyes was chaotic. The previously nicely organized medical equipment was spread across the room. There were several bullet marks around the entire room. At her right, the tanker was shot open and the zerg inside was filled with bullets. Sarah looked for the two ghosts as the shooters but instead she saw him. He was right there in front of her.

"Sarah," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"

She knew she shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't even have tried. She knew that under these circumstances, she could have been shot dead. But she didn't care. She leaped on Raynor. She embraced him as hard and long as she could, looking up at his eyes, hoping he could see what burden she had relieved herself of. Raynor was stunned for several moments. His brain processed the enormous amount of information that bombarded him. Some part of him was still suspicious of her possibly remaining zerg influences. That part died when he stared into her eyes, something which he had avoided doing since they had come to Haven.

Raynor knew if he stared into Sarah's eyes, he'd find out exactly who and what she was. He was an already wounded soul. He knew it would truly devastate him beyond belief, if he stared into her eyes and saw nothing but the swarm. So he stayed away, occupying himself with whatever he could. Alas, here he found himself, drawn away by Ariel who was yelling about Stetmann trying to replenish the zerg tank batteries and having an accident in Kerrigan's room in the process. He had rushed over as the zerg had broken through its glass prison and was touching Sarah. His actions were instinctive. He had shot the zerg as many times as his weapon allowed before making his way to Kerrigan who had been screaming since the moment she touched the zerg.

He stared into her eyes, her beautiful green eyes. And he liked what he saw. His arms closed around Sarah's back and tightened. They both closed their eyes and thought of less complicated times when they had been in this situation, moments before Sarah departed off to New Gettysburg where Arcturus Mengsk would abandon her. But she threw all thoughts of Mengsk away. Right now, she intended to enjoy every moment of her embrace and true reunion with Jim Raynor. She knew time was short. She lifted her head up to his.

"Who do you see?" she asked. "Is it Sarah? Or the Queen of Blades?"

"I'd never kiss a zerg," said Raynor and with that he moved forward and caught her lips with his.

They were torn apart all too quickly by the ghosts who quickly rushed in and double tapped the dead zerg just to be sure.

"Sir, we need to secure the area," said one ghost.

"I'll be back, I promise," said Jim, not letting go of Sarah. "Look for me."

"I've always been looking," she replied smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

"Raynor! What the hell is going on?" asked Warfield.

"What happened in there?" demanded Horner.

"Why don't you ask Stetmann." The three turned to the young scientist.

Squirming under pressure, he began to sweat. "Well you see, I was heading to the lab when I realized that the zerg specimen tank had low battery so I wheeled it over to Sarah Kerrigan's room, which happened to be the only place, Doctor Hanson had stored the specific modelled batteries. It got out of my sight for just a moment, and it was already on Sarah Kerrigan. It had moved by itself! How incredibly extraordinary, such a small creature with minimal motor skills recognized one of its kind and was attracted to the point where it exceeded its regular strength to push the tank!"

"Is this all some type of experiment to you Stetmann?" demanded Raynor forcefully. "You think you can put lives at risk just to see the cause and effect?"

"Sir with all due respect, you put our lives at risk when you allowed the Queen of Blades to live," replied the scientist quickly.

Raynor gritted his teeth. He did not like where the conversation was heading. Time to deflect.

"I'm curious why you didn't terminate the zerg," Raynor said while crossing his arms. "I remember our little chat down in the Hyperion lab. You said both tanks had a failsafe mechanism that would terminate either specimen with a simple button press." The scientist scratched the back of his head.

"It took me a good minute or so to get to Sarah's room," continued Raynor. "That's a whole minute you sat there and watched the whole goddamn thing happen."

"I-I was originally going to terminate as per ship protocol, but we were no longer on the ship, and as soon as I saw the specimen's unique attraction to Miss Kerrigan, I thought: Hey what a great opportunity to examine zerg communal behaviour and gain an advantageous insight on their social activities!"

Raynor moved forward and put a solid fist in the younger man's stomach. Winded and gasping for air, Stetmann fell to the ground, clutching his solar plexus.

"No life is worth any amount of research. Get that through your head," said Raynor viciously. "If you can't understand that, you mind as well get in line behind Mengsk. I know you saved my ass more than once down in the Nhydus tunnels of Char, but if you do something like that again, I'll throw you out the airlock, and that's a promise," finished Jim sternly.

OOO

It was dark out in Haven. Almost everyone was sleeping, even the protoss. Raynor however was walking alongside his engineer Swann. The two men made their way to an autopsy like room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked the smaller man, wary.

"Swann, I made a promise to myself when Tychus died. I told myself that I would free his body from that suit if it was the last thing I did. Now, it's all I can do for him."

"Alright commander," sighed Swann. "We're going to be here for a while."

Slowly and methodically, Raynor assisted Swann as the experienced man took off Tychus' armour piece by piece. His lower armour came off easy. His chest plate took a lot of effort. Very slowly, Swann had to cut the interior tubes that had pierced Tychus' body. After that was done, the heavy metal was lifted from Raynor's friend's body. The helmet was all that remained. Once that was done, Swann left and Raynor stood there, looking at his deceased friend.

Lighting a cigar for himself, Raynor sat next to his friend. "I hope that's a little more comfortable for you old buddy. You're free at last."

Tychus said nothing. He couldn't.

"I never did get to pay you back for all the trouble you got me out of. And now it seems I won't get the chance," said Raynor sadly. "But I knew you Tychus Finley. I always knew it was more than the money with you. I knew it was more than just yourself that motivated you. God damn it, I miss you already, old buddy. You'd probably tell me that it's plain stupid talking to a dead corpse. And I guess you're right."

Raynor set down his cigar and poured himself a drink. "Just thought I'd let you know old buddy, I ain't going to just sit on my ass. It looks like I'm going to have to face an enemy far more powerful than the zerg, and I won't have you to rely on. Even so, even if those damn Hybrids beat me down, I'll still crawl back up like we used to in the good old days. Without you here beside me, it looks like this won't be a walk in the park, but I'll survive. Always have. Like you, I'm going to keep on fighting until my body is broken. I promise you that Tychus. We will win this war. And I know you cared about it, regardless of what you said.

Standing up, Raynor smiled. "When I get finished with these Hybrids, I think I'll go back to Mar Sara and visit that pretty girl in the bar. You know, the one that got away from you. I bet telling her about some of your great war adventures would have her regretting leaving you. We all got our choices to make, and I've made mine. I'm going to do what we both did best. I'll fight the enemy until the day I die, just like you would. I'll make you proud, Tycus."

Raynor began walking away. "Goodbye old buddy."

OOO

Zeratul and Raynor were discussing possible entries into Aiur to begin the retaking of the planet. The warp gate from Aiur to Shakuras had been destroyed. A straight warp into Aiur would be suicide, but a frontal approach would be just as dangerous. Suddenly, Zeratul raised a finger to silence Raynor.

"We have an uninvited guest," Zeratul told Raynor quietly.

Swiftly, the elder Protoss turned around and casted a small psionic storm in a corner of the room. A loud gasp in pain arose, and a body flickered into view. Lying down, her body still weak from the small psionic storm, the intruder scowled. The cloaking had failed and slowly, the intruder's body was revealed.

"I thought we had a deal Nova," said Raynor sternly. "I helped you take care of Tosh. You told me you'd leave my crew alone."

He moved over towards her. Kicking her weapon aside and firmly placing a psionic dampner on her person, he withdrew his handgun and pointed it at the blonde haired fatale. Behind him, Zeratul ignited his warp blade.

"So this is the power of the Protoss," cringed Nova painfully. "How you been Jimmy?"

"Don't play games with me Nova," Raynor stated flatly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," jeered the hurt ghost.

Raynor gripped his weapon tightly. The woman was trying her patience. The last time she saw Raynor, after she had killed Tosh, she almost looked as if she was going to join them. Truth be told, Jim was tempted to ask. But nothing happened and they parted ways. What a clear mistake that was. He should have known. Ghosts are all trouble.

"Stand aside my friend," declared Zeratul. "She will talk, whether she wants to or not."

The Protoss warrior raised a four-fingered hand. Nova instinctively jerked back. Closing his glowing green eyes, Raynor spotted the Khaydarin crystal on Zeratul's neck begin to glow brightly. He could feel the psionic energy being harnessed.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Nova nervously.

"Behold, the power of Mind Reader," declared Zeratul.

Nova's body jerked back and her eyes closed. Raynor asked himself if Zeratul had merely knocked the woman unconscious. But her eyes quickly opened, glowing in luminescent green, and she stood up. All the while, Zeratul had his hand outstretched.

"The Protoss continue to surprise me," said Raynor, smirking.

"As does your race to me," replied the alien, concentrating. "Now, terran spy, tell us what you know."

"Why are you here?" asked Raynor.

"Emperor Arcturus Mengsk of the Terran Dominion assigned me a top secret classified assignment, to be executed immediately," Nova said devoid of emotion. "My mission was to track down the criminal James Raynor."

"You were going to kill me," Raynor stated.

"No," replied the ghost. "Assassination was the primary objective, but you were not the target. The emperor knew the repercussions of your death would only amplify the revolutionary cause. My target was the deserter General Warfield."

"Why him?" demanded the terran commander.

"Killing General Warfield would weaken the resolve of the deserting Dominion fleet, inciting mutiny amongst your forces," replied the monotone psionic agent. "Furthermore, your weakened forces would leave you vulnerable to the incoming Dominion ambush force. And the Dominion could not allow General Warfield to divulge secret tactical data involving Dominion military defences"

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Jim. "All that talk about keeping the universe a safer place by reinforcing New Folsom, was that just a lie? So the real Nova doesn't care about humanity. You're just another one of Mengsk's pet ghosts."

"Upon reading my mission report when I collaborated with you on New Folsom instead of choosing apprehension as the course of action, Mengsk ordered the reactivation of my Neural Inhibitor. I do not have control. I do not have a choice."

Raynor stepped back. That's the same thing Tychus said before Jim was forced to put a bullet in his friend because of Mengsk's deceit. That bastard longed for total control of everything and everyone. If nothing else, Jim would free this one ghost from her mental prison. He raised his weapon again and prepared to fire.

"Perhaps a more subtle option would be better suited for this situation," said Zeratul slowly. "We must extract all the information she has."

Raynor agreed after a while. Zeratul's energy began waning and he released his control of her mind. She fell to her knees, before unsteadily getting back up.

"Does the Dominion know we are here?" asked Raynor immediately.

Nova shook her head. "I didn't want to activate the transponder until I confirmed Warfield was here."

"I don't want any of your bullshit, Nova!" harshly shouted the commander. "Warfield's right in the other room. You had to have caught a glimpse of him if you're here. Did you activate it or not?"

Nova shifted uncomfortably. She saw the Protoss raise his hand again, preparing to control her. Being controlled once was bad enough. She did not want to experience that again.

"Warfield...was not my only target," admitted the ghost. "Even that Protoss could not read that far into my mind. I'm a psychic too remember? My other target was Sarah Kerrigan."

Raynor had her by the hair and with a gun to her stomach. It didn't take a psychic to tell that he was angry. Nova painfully tried to move, but the threat of a gun, thwarted her.

"You're on thin ice here, Nova," threatened Raynor. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't go trigger happy."

"I told you, I was being controlled!" said Nova loudly. "I wasn't lying on New Folsom. I'm not like the other ghosts you've met."

"I sure hope not," replied Raynor, thinking how an infested Nova would look like. "It doesn't matter now. Your mission failed. I was willing to put this past us after New Folsom, but now, I reckon I'll throw you to the dogs. It's where you belong."

"You have no idea do you?" said the female ghost. "I shouldn't expect any sympathy from you. You wouldn't understand. Have you ever felt so powerless that even the most meaningless actions require supervision and approval? Didn't think so. No matter what you say, you're a free man James Raynor. I'm a soldier who had all control of her life taken away. At the whim of a single man, I become a slave. There's no resisting, there's no choice. I simply do. You don't know what it's like to feel that way!" she finished yelling. "Do what you have to do, but don't stand there, all high and mighty. Until you know what it's like to feel completely helpless, don't you dare talk to me like that!"

Raynor stood silently. Mengsk truly was the devil, ensnaring everything he touched with his influence and control. The worse part, her situation was exactly the same as Tychus'. Raynor also chuckled in his mind. It was not often that a hostage could daunt the captor.

"What are we going to do with you then?" asked Raynor. "We can't let you go and expose us to Mengsk."

Nova's eyes faltered and she lowered her head. "Don't beat around the bush, Jimmy. I know what's going to happen."

"On the other hand," continued Raynor. "I don't want to kill you."

Nova tilted her head up, shocked and befuddled. She had never experienced mercy before this. "Why wouldn't you? I'm an assassin sent to take out your people. Why would you spare me?"

Raynor came close. "Your right, I've never been controlled like you have, but I do understand you. You're the third person I've met who has been controlled by the same cruel bastard."

"Mengsk," replied Nova bluntly.

"Well, it seems you'll be stuck with us for a while, Nova," said Raynor trying slightly to lighten the mood. "I'll find you living quarters until I figure out what to do with you. You'll have an escort at all times, but you should be able to move around just fine. And I almost forgot, report to Doctor Hanson immediately. I want those Neural Inhibitors taken out as soon as possible."

Still stunned with foreign concept of altruism, Nova made to leave the room. Her social encounters in her life had always been brief and cold. She didn't know how to respond to the unfamiliar act of compassion. She paused at the door and turned back to the commander.

"Thank you, Jimmy," she simply and awkwardly said before she left.

As Nova found her way over to Doctor Ariel's medical facility, she regained old emotions, locked away by the Dominion's controlling devices. They flooded through her system like an uncontrollable river. The first was bitterness, or downright loathing. All those years, she had served Mengsk loyally albeit, without choice, but she had done her duty. She had protected Terran lives, and as a reward, her body and mind were repossessed by some geeky analyst light years away just so more humans could slaughter each other. She decided she...disliked Mengsk. Perhaps utter hatred would be an emotion to be recovered later.

The second emotion was attachment. She now felt compelled to be alongside her liberator, to fight against what he fought, to take up his morals and adhere to his principals. She couldn't understand why. She realized she was just a child when it came to emotion. Her stunted emotional growth had left her feelings retarded and in need of dire practice. Hopefully, she'd soon unlock the reason she was so drawn to James Raynor.

And the last emotion was anticipation. Joy had not yet reached Nova's mind, instead she was content to looking forward for the Neural Inhibitor extraction. For she knew, that when it was taken out, her Memory wipe would eradr. She knew so little about herself. The moments that defined her, her childhood, her parents, they were all cruelly sealed in a vault of microscopic proportions. But soon Nova woul reclaim them and discover who she truly was beyond the cloak and rifle. One small smile graced her face, and she prepared for the surgery.

OOO

Raynor found himself particularly bored that day. The Protoss were still regrouping at Shakuras, and the Protoss Hierarchy were making sure everything was ready before they left. Warfield, not wanting to miss out on the action, had been collaborating with the Protoss and making sure his forces had recovered and were up to the task.

"Easy there buddy," said a famous voice. "Hey! Get your hands off me pervert. I said I've never carried a weapon before. This? This is microphone, moron."

Raynor heard Matt's voice.

"Don't worry Miss. I'll take you from here."

"Thank you. I'm glad to know there is someone in Raynor's camp that has an ounce of decency."

The doors hissed open, and Raynor had pieced together who it was. How could he not? He had heard her voice every time he saw the television. Matt Horner walked in. Right behind him was the famous and newly promoted UNN lead Anchor, Kate Lockwell.

"This is a long way from Korhal, Miss Lockwell," said Raynor.

"Jim Raynor," Kate Lockwell extended her hand. "It's an honour to finally meet you."

Raynor shook her hand. "I'm not sure 'honour' is the right word to use for a man like me. I'm the infamous Jim Raynor remember? A wanted criminal, a despicable terrorist."

"It took me a long time and a lot of effort to track you down Mr. Raynor. I hoped that you would grant me an interview with you. You know a good public appearance can quickly change popular opinion. Just take your broadcast on Tarsonis, for example."

"You're the head honcho now," said Raynor, crossing his arms. "Shouldn't you be putting reporting behind you? And anyways, I've always been camera shy, if you know what I mean."

"Commander," protested Matt, suddenly, "Miss Lockwell is giving us an amazing chance to prove ourselves to the rest of the colonies and destroy the false image people have of us. This is immensely important to our cause. We can't let a chance slip by like this!"

Raynor looked at Matt. "Don't be naive. She works for the UNN. She will reword everything I say. The UNN is a media branch of the Dominion. Reporting my ass. That network is nothing but brainwashed drones obedient to their master Mengsk. I don't want to be a part of any of that."

"I will admit, many, if not most of my reports about you have been fairly supportive of the Terran Dominion-"

"Just like I thought," interrupted Raynor.

"You didn't let me finish!" said Kate hastily. "Why doesn't anyone let me finish? I said most of my reports had been pro-dominion because of UNN censorship under Donny Vermilion. Now that I'm the head honcho as you said, things are about to change. If you've seen my work, I've always tried to share the news in a balanced fashion before Donny cut me off. Now that he's gone off the rocker, and I'm in charge, I thought, what better way to start off than with an interview with the one and only Jim Raynor, leader of the Raynor's Raiders."

"You will do a real interview with me?" asked Raynor. Kate nodded.

"Un-edited and broadcasted on the UNN?" Kate nodded again.

Raynor leaned in close. "Do you know how much danger you'd be in when that news story goes up?"

Kate was shocked, she had never figured Raynor to be concerned with her well being.

"I assure you Mr. Raynor, Mengsk may be ruthless, but I doubt he'd take violent steps in response to fair and reasonable journalistic integrity."'

"Tell that to Michael Liberty," replied Raynor turning away.

"_The_ Michael Liberty?" asked Kate Lockwell excitedly. "The one who was at your side during the Fall of the Confederacy? I wrote a paper on his last manifesto in college. He's an idol of mind! Is he here with you?"

Raynor shook his head. "He's dead. When we parted ways, Liberty started pumping out anti-Dominion messages across all channels, to all planets. Mengsk had him killed." Raynor's hands curled tightly into a fist. He turned to the young reporter. "In order to give people the real story, he lived in fear for his own life for over a year until he was finally murdered. Are you sure you're able to go through what he did?"

Kate Lockwell didn't speak for a few moments. "I'm grateful for your concern for me Mr. Raynor, but you don't need to worry about me. It seems I've become quite the public figure after that Valerian's little...secret. Liberty was an underground freedom writer. There is no way Mengsk would try to kill me. He knows my status to the public is too well known. He won't go after me so you have nothing to worry about."

Raynor thought for a moment. "Alright. I better not regret this."

"You won't, and thank you!" said the reporter excitedly.

Raynor exited the room to clean himself up. Hopefully he could minimize his gruff appearance.

"Hi this is Kate Lockwell, new lead anchor for UNN. I have a very special interview for you folks. I'm here with none other than James Raynor, the leader of the Raynor's Raiders rebel group. Jim, many people, the emperor himself even, has claimed that you are an illicit terroriser governed by a revenge clouded immoral set of principles. How do you respond to these allegations?"

_"Geez, she really doesn't pull her punches,"_ thought Raynor. "Well, Kate, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't motivated by revenge. Despite what good old Mengsk may deny, he murdered one of my close friends and was responsible for the ruin of two others. And that's only the ones I knew. Your emperor was responsible for the deaths of billions of people. And they weren't just casualties of war. Less than half of those people were Confederate associates. They were the innocent people from Antiga Prime and Tarsonis."

"I...I don't quite understand," said the young woman reporter. "Are you claiming that Emperor Mengsk was implicit in the zerg attacks on Antiga Prime as well as Tarsonis?"

"Darling, he orchestrated the damn thing," replied Jim Raynor. "He deliberately attracted all zerg to those planets, which subsequently attracted the Protoss. And it was all to destroy the Confederacy. Criticize me all you want, but I'd never put innocent lives on the line for my personal gain, unlike Arcturus Mengsk who you heard on our transmission from Tarsonis. And let me tell you something, I fought alongside Mengsk too. He was playing me just like he's playing all you. He's a cold-blooded and power-hungry schemer."

"How do you plan to change our current state?" inquired the reporter.

"Mengsk has gotta go," said Raynor firmly. "And one way or another he will, whether by my hand or someone else's, I promise you, his days are numbered. You were there onboard the refugee ships. You saw how he sacrificed the fringe worlds to the zerg just like he sacrificed his second in command. If people knew the true Arcturus Mengsk, they wouldn't be so willing to let him control their lives."

"Doesn't it seem more civil and just to have Emperor Mengsk tried before a court of law and seek to challenge his reign through legal election?" asked Kate, sticking the microphone much too close to Jim's face. "Your violent revolution has not won many friends, Mr. Raynor."

Raynor pounded his fist on the table. "Don't you see? There is no other way! Mengsk rules this sector with an iron fist. He has the penal system, the military industrial complex, the media and the constabulary wrapped around his thumb. He has secured his unjust reign over Terrans in almost every way. The only way to confront such a force is through aggressive action, violence even."

"Now, reports are coming in that you undertook a massive invasion of the planet Char," Kate pressed on. "Can you talk on that subject?"

"I was met with a Dominion battle group under General Warfield and Prince Valerian," said Jim Raynor. "After the Prince had royally screwed up our initial pass at the planet, the general and I had to struggle to pull our troops together and hit the zerg where it hurt."

"What was the point of this bold mission?"

"We decided to take the fight to the zerg," said the rebel commander proudly. "We had one goal, and that was to eradicate the zerg from their major stronghold planet Char Sara. We succeeded. We dealt a huge blow to the zerg hierarchy that day. It'll take those zerg months, maybe years to recover. And we'll capitalize on that time by doing everything we can to drive the zerg back on all fronts."

"You mentioned the zerg hierarchy. Many experts commonly recognize the infamous Queen of Blades as the leader of the zerg swarm. Did your conflict involve her as well?"

Jim stayed quiet and thought for a moment. Mengsk already knew he had disinfested the Queen of Blades, so assassins would be coming regardless, but if he admitted that he had disinfested the zerg leader, could also alienate potential sympathizers to his cause. He soon realized that they truth would get out soon enough, and he'd rather be out in front of it, and present it the way he wanted to.

"The speculation is correct," said Raynor. "The Queen of Blades was once human. With a Xel'Naga artifact we've been collecting, we returned her to her human shape. Don't worry. You have nothing to worry about. The Queen of Blades is dead. And she'll never come back."

"Well there you have it folks," said Kate Lockwell, enthusiastically. "Whether criminal or hero, there's no disputing James Raynor has made our sector safer with the brutal blow to the zerg on Char Sara. For UNN, this is Kate Lockwell."

The cameras had dimmed and Raynor let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at the reporter who was having a fit of joy as this exclusive interview would probably be one very important highpoint in her career. Or it could have her sentenced to death.

"Are you going to hold up our agreement?" asked James.

"To the T," replied Lockwell. "Every word you said will be broadcasted, uncensored and unedited." She paused and then moved away from the camera man, motioning Raynor to follow suit.

"I am a reporter first and foremost," she declared. "It's my duty to stay as nonbiased and fair as possible. But I thought you'd like to know, if nothing else, you've earned at least one more supporter."

Raynor smiled at the young lady. She thanked him for the interview before leaving, no doubt to send the interview over to the UNN Headquarters on Korhal. That broadcast could change everything. Horner entered the room, clearly pleased.

"Good job sir," he said lively. "That will be sure to attract more people to our cause. We've been on a roll so far. I can't help but feel optimistic."

"We'll beat Mengsk," assured the older man. "We have to."


	5. Chapter 5

"Trust me on this one Zeratul, I know she's the real Sarah," said Raynor. "She has no recollection of what she did while she was the Queen of Blades."

"My friend, history has proven your judge of character to be flawed," said Zeratul. "I will not allow the fate of the universe to be decided over one human's gut instinct. We must be sure. We must!"

Zeratul turned away. "You do remember don't you?" asked the large Protoss. "During the Brood War, Kerrigan once came to us claiming reform. In our foolishness, we blindly trusted her and we paid the price. We paid it dearly."

Raynor opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"You are a short lived race, friend Raynor. If you can imagine the impact of one defining moment on a 100 year life, can you imagine how drastic a moment would have to be to forever haunt a being of over 1000 years? You may think you know pain, you may think you know suffering. But know I faced the same and more. I too had someone dear to me taken by the zerg. And unlike you, where you could swear revenge on the one responsible, it was I who committed the act. And because my hand had slain her, I could not avenge."

Zeratul turned around and looked directly at his terran friend. "Until the day comes when you experience that, and I hope it never does, you will never know the pain she has caused me, the pain she has caused my entire race. Our people are in shambles. 30% of our former population remains. Unlike the unique position you terrans have, there is no distant planet to call home, no guaranteed that if this sector falls, the Protoss will survive. We don't have a protected homeworld like you do anymore. Earth to us was destroyed when my cursed hand killed the celebrate and our beloved homeworld was overrun. If your species dies here, the terrans will endure on Earth, at least for a short while. My people will become extinct if we are finished here."

"I hope you can understand this, old friend," continued Zeratul. "I am riddled with grief and regret so you must realize, I can't trust you in this situation. I can't take the chance. I can't take your word. I will not make the same deadly mistake twice. I must know for certain."

Raynor nodded, finally understanding the grieving warrior. "If it'll help put Razagal behind you, then who am I to object."

Zeratul despite not having a mouth, smiled in a Protoss way, at his friend. The pair made their way to the ever-healthy looking Kerrigan. Her body mass was growing from the tiny baby-like weight. Her hair growth had continued and her shiny red hair descended to her shoulders. With the help of modern medicine, her sickly pale skin had begun to darken to an acceptable complexion.

"Why is a Protoss here, Jim?" asked Sarah, uneasily.

"So she does claim ignorance," Zeratul thought only to Raynor. "It seems you are the only one who she remembers through her time with the zerg."

"Sarah, you don't know who he is?" asked Raynor. "Don't be afraid. He won't hurt you even if you admit the truth."

"Why would he want to hurt me?" whispered Sarah.

"It is time," declared Zeratul.

Like with Nova, Zeratul's eyes shined bright green and his Khaydarin crystal poured energy into his body.

"Sarah Kerrigan," he said in a powerful voice. "I must confirm that you are no longer the Queen of Blades. In order to do so, I must venture deep into your mind and relive your memories. If you are being truthful with me, the mystic veil regarding your time as zerg leader will be revealed to not only me but to you as well."

"No!" exclaimed Kerrigan suddenly. She backed away from the glowing protoss and stood behind Jim. "I don't _want_ to know what happened."

"If I were in your position, I too would most certainly favour ignorance over the truth, but I'm afraid, that proof of your return to humanity is necessary," said Zeratul.

"Jim, don't let him do this," pleaded Sarah. "I don't want to go through all that again!"

"Isn't there any other way?" asked Raynor.

"If there was I would certainly have preferred it," said Zeratul. "Alas, we have but one choice. We must make Sarah Kerrigan live through her dark years. Only then can we determine where her loyalties now lie."

Sarah was trembling now. The sheer power of this mysterious Protoss was overwhelming to her dampened psionic powers. Raynor grabbed her hand.

"I believe you Sarah," he said. "But we got to convince everyone else." He turned to Zeratul. "Take me with you."

Zeratul looked stunned. "Friend Raynor, where we are going, no soul should ever have the misfortune of experiencing. You will only hurt yourself."

Raynor defiantly shook his head. "If we're going to do this, I want to be with Sarah to help her through it."

"You are ever humble," remarked Zeratul. "Very well."

Jim held Sarah tightly, whispering words of comfort into her ear. The former ghost was soothed by his words and comforted by his presence. Whatever she uncovered in her mind, she was glad Raynor would be there.

"Let us begin!" exclaimed Zeratul. And the room exploded with energy.

Kerrigan felt something strange, unlike anything she had experienced. The momentary discomfort of having her memories racked, were quickly cast aside in favour of fear. It happened so fast. She saw years in seconds. Billions of deaths at her hand had been crammed into half a second of time. Already moving on, she had no time to process the horrors committed. Millions of thoughts polluted her already troubled mind as the trio ventured further into her mind. They now arrived at Shakuras. Sarah saw herself as she supplanted an old Matriarch named Razagal. She saw herself murder the Judicator Aldaris upon his awareness of the situation. And though she carried no morsel of pity, Sarah cringed as she saw the civil war between the zerg.

So much death surrounded her. She could smell it and feel its destructive nature. It was intoxicating and she gripped Raynor's hand as hard as she could. Everywhere, there was death. Every memory they watched, lives were lost, and by Kerrigan's hand no less. The events were not chronologically. Instead, they were in sequence of how far Sarah had buried these cruelties in the thick layers of her mind.

She saw herself laughing as she murdered General Edmund Duke. Not even waiting for a moments rest, she saw herself immediately kill the Protoss Fenix thereafter. She quickly glanced at both Raynor and Zeratul. They were both dead silent, both wide eyed and the horrors they were forced to watch. And then she saw herself commit one of the worst transgressions. She saw herself on Shakuras once more. She forced Zeratul to kill his friend and leader. She felt it as his warp blade pierced her side. The life drained from Razagal's eyes and her body went limp in Zeratul's arms. Sarah felt herself laughing at the pained warrior. Goading and mocking the fallen hero, Sarah was horrified of what she had done, what she had become. Her memory then uncovered a small conversation between her and Raynor shortly after the death of Fenix. For a moment, the memories slowed, and Kerrigan experienced in real time.

_"I'll see you dead for this Kerrigan. For Fenix and all the others who got caught between you and your mad quest for power!"_

_ "Tough talk, Jimmy. But I don't think you have what it takes to be a killer."_

_ "It may not be tomorrow, darlin'. It may not even happen with an army behind my back. But rest assured, I'm the man who's going to kill you some day."_

Kerrigan's eyes widened and she let go of Raynor's hand and stepped back. More and more emotions poured through her system, but she was again, forcefully pushed forward. She relived the battle in her mind between herself and the Queen of Blades. Zeratul watched the scene carefully.

"There, you saw it," said Kerrigan shakily. "Let me out now,"

But Zeratul had lost control of the ghost's mind. Her psyche now entered into the memory which her conscious had deemed the worst, and forever to be forgotten. She was at her assimilation into the Swarm. Sarah saw herself shrieking in terror as the zerg had formed a gooey shell around her body. Everywhere she turned, the abominations were looking at her, salivating at what she would become. The zerg genes smashed through her body and overwhelmed her defences. She saw her own skin turn violet and hard, her hair falling out and being replaced with thick dreadlock-like appendages. Her eyes faded from green to the shining orange hue, many were familiar with. And from her back, the defining transformation took place. The semi-infested Sarah fell down, screaming for all her worth, in pain. She cursed Mengsk, she cursed the Sons of Korhal, and she even cursed humanity for her fate. Through her screams, emerged two bony limbs from her back. Stretching from her back and separating to form 6 blades, Kerrigan finally collapsed, unable to scream. Her physical infestation was complete, and now the zerg influence had wandered into her mind, already peeling away at her sanity. Her repulsive new appendages draped over her shoulders. She shuddered at the touch of them. And she felt the zerg presence overwhelm her and she ceased to be human.

"No more!" cried Sarah within her psyche as she was watching her own infestation.

The trio were torn from her mind and Kerrigan unleashed pure inertia around her. Her psionic dampener was overloaded and Zeratul and Raynor were forcefully blasted away from the damaged ghost. She sat down. All the progress of the vitamins and nutriments had been washed away as Sarah resumed her pale face. She didn't speak a word. Raynor slowly approached her.

She quickly backed away from him, remembering what he had said to her. Zeratul looked steadily at the floor.

"I'm sorry," said Zeratul finally. "No one should have had to witness that. You are indeed human. I...forgive me."

He exited the room with new mental scars. He never thought after Razagal's death, and then the vision of the extinction of the Protoss, that something could shock him as devastatingly but it had. How the terran had managed to retain her sanity and free will was a mystery. He remembered the moment he slewed the zerg celebrate and the very essence of the zerg seemed to try and venture into his body, despite the all too brief contact. He became overly anxious, pacing around without goal. Knowing he needed soothing and serenity, he slowly removed the clamps that held the energy to his psionic appendages. For a brief moment, Zeratul decided he'd join with the calming presence of the Khala to comfort his distraught mind. He could not start to imagine how Sarah Kerrigan was feeling if he, a mere bystander, was in such distress.

Sarah was left in the room with Jim. She tried to resist but Raynor sat next to her silently.

"I...I'm a monster," she whispered. "I killed billions of people without even batting an eye. All those people who died, Fenix, Aldaris, Razagal, Admiral DuGalle, even Duke, I'm responsible."

"It's not your fault Sarah," tried Raynor. "You didn't have a choice."

"We all have our choices to make," cried Sarah. "Everything in the past five years, it's because of me. You said it yourself; you'd kill me if you got the chance."

Raynor didn't know what to say.

"I'm a mass murderer, a perverted creature of nature's harmonic balance. A woman like me, there's only one thing to do," she continued shakily. "So many lives, and now I remember them all." She turned to Jim, tears streaming from her face. "If I tried to tell you the names of everyone I've ruined, it would take 3 lifetimes."

"Don't you think like that!" said Raynor quickly. "Don't you dare think about it. You were being controlled the whole time. Sarah, you're not responsible. There's nothing you could have done. All those years ago, I said I would see the Queen of Blades dead, and she is now."

He reached and cupped her face, despite her flinching. Her faith in James Raynor had been shaken. "Listen closely. You are not the Queen of Blades. You never were. She was an evil bloodthirsty zerg. You are a beautiful terran woman. The two of you, you're separate. You can't take the blame for her actions. Like I said, there's nothing you could have done."

Kerrigan stood up and turned away. "You're wrong. I was given many choices that could have saved lives. Every Confederate ghost was implanted with a failsafe suicidal mechanism that would destroy the brain upon the user's activation. I knew this, I feared this. When I saw the zerg swarm bear down on me, I knew the protocols. I knew what had to be done, and I ignored it. I was terrified of death, more than the zerg. I mislead myself into believing that I would be able to escape if I delayed death. I was scared. I didn't pull the trigger when every nerve in my body told me to."

Sarah's psionic powers flared up and small psionic storms took form around the room, "You see Jim, I _am_ responsible for those deaths. I could have stopped it. I did have a choice. And I chose to preserve my worthless life and become the wallowing servant of the zerg. It's my fault. Those are my actions. I alone am accountable for the billions that died."

Raynor figured he had to leave her alone for a while. As he was leaving, and the storms died, he heard her mutter.

"Serena Shepard, Victoria Mandor, Harvy Reno, Charles London..." Kerrigan softly said as she continued to list her victims.

Raynor sighed in grief. He knew it would be painful to relive the memories, but he didn't know how much of a toll it would take on Sarah's ignorant but innocent soul. He was barely able to keep himself from vomiting after he had been pulled out of the memory. He wanted to get away from it, to forget it and take a long hot shower and cleanse himself of those memories. Overtime, they would fade with him, but they were forever etched in the memory of Sarah. He knew she would never let go of those memories. However painful it might be, she felt responsible, and she thought she deserved to suffer for it. Raynor concluded that he would pull her out of her grief even if it took years. He needed her. And so did the universe.

OOO

"I'm worried about her, Doc," sighed Raynor as he watched his lover from the glass platform. "She's become so distant. She won't even look at me. Even with the psionic dampener, her power is leaking through."

"I have a theory," said Ariel slowly. "The last couple nights we had those unusual psionic storms, I noticed Kerrigan's brain activity in her REM sleep, spike drastically. In most cases this occurs due to an episode of parasomnia.'

"She was having a nightmare and it caused the storms? Jesus, I can't imagine what she's going through. I saw exactly what she saw, but I had the benefit of being a third party. She was watching herself. Doc, we have to do something about Sarah. I can't stand seeing her like this."

"Because you love her?" asked the doctor bluntly.

Neither of them spoke. "You don't need to same anything Jim. I knew it long before she got here. In any case, I'm going to start giving her more powerful sedatives. Hopefully at least that will even out the brainwave activity and give her a little reprieve from her nightmares while she deals with her situation."

Raynor thanked one of his few female friends and descended the stairs to see Kerrigan. She was sitting at a table with two miniature figures. She moved them around like a child would to a toy. Jim didn't know if it was some psychiatric thing, but he decided he would leave it alone. Kerrigan however, concentrated deeply on it.

"You see these two people?" asked Kerrigan softly, not even glancing at the commander. She lifted one figurine up. "This one is me." She subsequently lifted the other. "This one is Duke."

She aligned the figurines to their previous positions. Sarah manipulated the joints of the Duke figurine until the figure looked as if it was lying down.

"This was how Edmund Duke was when I killed him," she said seriously.

"I know Sarah," said Raynor quietly. "I saw it too."

She finally turned to him, her green eyes drained from their natural brightness. "But you didn't see the fear in his eyes. You didn't hear him beg for his life as I closed in on him. When he knew all hope of mercy was lost, he tried crawling away. His withered battlecruiser was in ruins. His crew was dead, and he would soon be too. I did not grant death slowly. My blades pierced his body some many times I lost count. I extended his agony as long as possible. And then as I made to kill him, he looked at me defiantly and proudly through the understanding of inevitability and said: Do your worst then girl. You ain't taking Edmund Duke without a fight."

She stood up and threw the Duke figurine with all her might and it smashed on the glass panel above. Raynor was seriously worried now.

"That's what I did to him!" shouted Sarah in anguish. "He was one of the cruellest men I had ever known, and even he didn't deserve this!" still I found a way to make his death even worse than he deserved!"

She picked up the remaining figure and began smashing it with her fist as hard as she could. She cried out incomprehensible words and tried to destroy the projection of herself. Jim finally came and grabbed her wrists and stopped her. She fought and struggled against him, but she was weak from the pain and her powers had been drained thoroughly to avoid another incident like before. She continued to try and wrestle away from Raynor's forced embrace until she tired herself out.

"I read what you were thinking," said Sarah panting. "Your mind says: Sarah, oh you poor thing. I don't deserve your sympathy. Even Duke deserves it more. I...I..."

She finally fell asleep on Jim. He discovered a sedative had already taken hold of her. He looked at the glass platform and nodded gratefully the doctor who had administrated the drug. He walked out of the room, filled with frustration.

"Christ, Liberty, you were always able to calm Sarah down when I couldn't," sighed the man. "But I'm not even sure you could pull Sarah out of this state. I don't know what to do."

"It's unbearable isn't it," said Zeratul who had appeared out of the darkness, "to see a loved one suffer while you are powerless to end their sorrow. And then the fleeting thought enters your mind; the thought of a way to finally end the pain, to remove your loved one from her path of desolation, to put her out of her misery."

"I have thought about it," answered Raynor after a delayed response. "At first I passed it off as ridiculous, but these last few days, it doesn't seem like I'm changing anything when I go to see her."

"Excruciating," agreed the wise Protoss. "But your situation deserves much more pity. Even if both you and she long for her ultimate release, her return to the creator, you cannot grant her that. Death can be the solution to many problems, but not this one. You are tempted, I can see, to give her the only thing you can, an end to the broken soul, not knowing or caring what lies beyond. But you know you can't. The death of Sarah Kerrigan means the death of us all. Her life is intertwined with the lives of the whole galaxy. If she perishes, we will fall. And so while your heart painfully demands her death as a acquittal of her sorrow, your mind knows otherwise. In the end, it could destroy you."

"So that still leaves the question, what do I do?" Raynor asked.

"I do not have the answer," admitted Zeratul. "But for your sake and for hers, you must find a way."

"And if I can't?"

"Then the two of you shall make a sacrifice for the universe far greater than Tassadar's. To ensure the survival of all life, you will forfeit your spirits. The spirit can live without the body, but the body cannot live without the spirit. It is the most cherished item of all life's creatures, even the zerg. Lose it, and you will lose yourself."

OOO

Raynor found himself once again in Sarah's room. She was currently using the small washroom installed within her living quarters. Again, he had made little progress. He told her his wild adventures with Tychus back when they were young on Mar Sara, and it did not procure, a laugh or a smile. There was barely any indication that Sarah had even paid attention. Her eyes were so dark these days. They were filled to the brim with sadness.

Raynor got up and went to the door. He knocked. "Are you okay in there Sarah?"

There was no answer and Raynor panicked. He threw his shoulder against the door which quickly gave way and revealed a thrashing figure beneath the water in the bathtub.

"Oh god!" exclaimed the former Marshall.

He ran over and scooped the woman gently out of the water. She coughed roughly as the water poured out of her system. Her face was wet. Raynor couldn't tell if it was tears or simply bathwater that streamed from her eyes. She gasped for air until her body had reacclimatized to the oxygen. As she caught her breath, she saw Jim staring concerned. Just a few days ago, she would have done anything to see this, but now, she could hardly care less.

"Sarah, you tried to kill yourself," stated James Raynor. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did you stop me?" asked Kerrigan miserably.

"I need you," replied Raynor.

"Bullshit!" cried Sarah suddenly, springing from Jim's arms. "You need me to save the universe. That's it! You say that I'm back to normal but I'm not! I'll never be! My life has been defined by the zerg. I'm not the girl you met on Antiga Prime. People still pass by my room, knowing that you and Zeratul swear up and down about my return, and they still view me as the Queen of Blades. I am the enemy. That has been engrained into their minds."

Sarah took a deep breath again. "I'm not looking for approval. But every time I see someone look at me like that, I think back to why they do so. And each time, I come to the conclusion that they're not wrong to think that I'm evil. I am. Billions of people died because of me!"

"Damn it girl!" shouted Raynor. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. You're torturing yourself with these memories."

She sunk to the floor, drawing her knees close to her chest. "I know it's pathetic but it's the only thing I can do to acknowledge their existences. If I let them slide from my mind, they'll be forgotten. I can't forget 8 billion people, I won't. I...I owe them my grief."

"You owe them more," replied Jim. Sarah turned to Raynor startled. "You think that you're honouring the dead by wallowing in your own guilt?" asked the commander. "They lost their lives and you think self-loathing makes it even?"

Sarah made to retort but could find nothing to say. Raynor wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

"A lot of people died, Sarah, there's no denying that," he quietly spoke. "But out of all those people, I can only think of a few who would blame you after what you've been through. And I know even less people who would wish that you continue to suffer by carrying their deaths on your shoulders. If you go on like this, you'll lose yourself. You'll truly lose your humanity."

Sarah paled and stiffened. Nothing scared her more than that. She had gone through hell and back to reclaim the little humanity she had left. She would not lose it again.

"8 billion people died because your humanity was stolen from you," continued Jim. "I can't think of a worse insult to their memory then to surrender it all over again. You were scared, you were human. Nobody would fault you for that. It's not about mourning the dead, Sarah. It's about fighting for the living. The memories will never go away, but you can't place this heavy burden on your shoulders."

Sarah leaned her head on Jim's shoulders, finally showing the affection lost after the memory return.

"I don't want to," admitted Kerrigan softly. "But I feel like I need to suffer as much as they did."

"Hey, look at me," called Jim, as he cupped her face. "When I looked into your green eyes after the Stetmann incident, I knew that you were a good person. Honour the lives lost by retaining your humanity. I know you don't want to mourn forever. Sometimes, we just have to move on, however painful it might be."

Jim remembered as Michael Liberty told him that same last phrase before he left. He turned to the watery-eyed woman. She wept on Jim's shoulder. She cried for all the lives lost, all the families destroyed. This would be the last time she cried for them. Instead, she would fight for them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Alright I'm continuing this even though I planned to stop at Chapter 5. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Several Void Rays hummed with energy. Their powerful blue energy cores had lit the dark sky of Haven. Countless wisps of black smoke had appeared near the ships and a couple dozen Dark Templar emerged from the darkness. Zeratul was among them. The Protoss Hierarchy greeted them.

"En Taro Tassadar, Zeratul," said Artanis respectfully. "You and your Dark Templar brethren shall begin the primary stages of our assault."

"I understand," replied the old warrior. "As agreed upon earlier, I shall take a handful of our finest Dark Templar and infiltrate the province of Antioch. We will reclaim the Observatory and reactivate our spies all over the planet. Once our sight is secured, we will proceed to the raging western seas. If we are to succeed, we must have the power of the Colossi. I have seen their strength with my own eyes. If there is any hope of winning this battle, it lies with those trapped under our oceans."

"Take care of yourself, Zeratul," said Raynor.

"Fear not young Raynor," spoke the golden immortal. "Zeratul shall be safe with me. My knowledge of Antioch is unmatched. You will find my skills have not been stifled with my 2 deaths. As we discussed before, I can still throw down with the best of them!"

"We shall depart now," said Zeratul. "In the service of Aiur, we will see our beloved planet restored, or die in the attempt."

"It is easy for you to say that," muttered Fenix. "You have never died before."

The small Protoss force boarded their ships. In the blink of an eye, they warped away from the planet Haven, already making their way to Aiur. Raynor knew that he would make sure his forces were ready to contribute when the time came.

OOO

Sarah dove back into the crystal clear pond in Haven. Jim had let her move around the planet, albeit under close supervision at all times. She spent most of her time in the water. There was something so pure about water that whenever Kerrigan felt it touch her skin, she felt untainted. She gazed up at her guard for the day. It was Matt Horner. She was cursed with psychic talent. She immediately discerned Horner's dislike for her. This was not uncommon, but still Sarah always felt uncomfortable. Doctor Hanson had her on suicide watch after her little incident. Sarah enjoyed diving to the deepest depths of the pond, only resurfacing when her lungs pained for oxygen. This way, her first breath was always better appreciated. Kerrigan rose to the surface of the pond, floating on the peaceful body of water. She could stay this way for the rest of her life. She had begun to appreciate the serene. It was very quiet in the lake. Sighing, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

She had always been a good swimmer. Ever since she was a little girl, she knew this to be true. In the water, she was in control. Maybe that's why she was here. Maybe she longed for an environment of control after it was forcefully taken from her. From her time with the zerg she knew one important fact. The zerg couldn't swim. Out here in the pond, they couldn't touch her, they couldn't control her. She was in control.

She decided then and there, she would stay in the pond. She wouldn't step onto the uncertainties of land. For the rest of her days, she would stay floating on the surface of this quiet pond. She was not the only one there. Many people were with her in the pond. She could tell they took it for granted. They had spent their whole lives in the pond. Maybe because she had ventured to shore, did Kerrigan truly appreciate the water. Her quiet pond. This is where she would stay.

She emerged from the water and walked over to the Hyperion pilot. He noticed her coming and his hand slowly travelled down to his gun holster. They stood in silence. Finally Kerrigan spoke.

"Give me a name," she said.

Horner gave her a confused look.

"Give me a name of someone you've lost because of me," she asked again.

"Maybe the better question is who _haven't _I lost because of you," Matt responded. "You tore Jim apart for five years. You reduced a proud reformed criminal into a pathetic alcoholic spiralling out of control. You changed him almost as much as the zerg changed you. And I know you weren't in control. I know you aren't to blame. But Jim loved you more than anything. If there is any thought on leaving Jim or the Raiders, banish it from your mind. You owe Jim that much. If anything were to happen to you again, Jim would never recover."

Sarah nodded understandingly. "You have nothing to worry about. If anything were to happen to Jim, _I _would never recover."

"Then I'm glad we understand each other," said Matt Horner, smiling slightly. "Now why don't you get back in the water or someone might get some ideas."

Sarah looked down and let out a small yelp as she wasn't wearing any clothes. Blushing from head to toe, she proceeded back into the water, back in control.

OOO

"It is time for us to return to Shakuras, Hierarch," said Prelate Mohandar. "Are you sure you wish to undertake this by yourself?"

Artanis nodded. "One ship is a smaller target than the entire fleet. I will be in no danger. Our Terran allies have also pledged their forces to accompany me. The duty rests on you to finalize the preparations for our attack."

"As you wish, Hierarch," bowed Mohandar. "En taro Tassadar, we shall see each other once more on the battlefield."

The remnants of the Protoss Hierarchy, aside from Artanis, vanished in a flash of blue light. He looked around and saw aliens. Perhaps he would find Raynor and discuss methods of consuming his drinks.

OOO

Arcturus Mengsk threw one of his most valuable chess sets at the wall. He had finished watching that bitch Lockwell interview the traitor Raynor. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better to kill him all together. When it came to overthrowing a government, Raynor had learned from the best. He used his charm and charisma to win over General Warfield from the Dominion just as Arcturus had used his charm and charisma to win over the people of Antiga Prime from the Confederacy. He turned to face his son as he entered from the door. His blond head stared at the ground, and he avoided eye contact with his father.

"Father, I'm sorry, I failed," whispered Valerian.

"Yes you did," replied Arcturus coldly. "As far as military operations went, this had to be the simplest! All you had to do was let Raynor and Warfield take care of the tactical command! But no, my son's arrogance cost a good portion of the battle group. With a tactical blunder like that, it's no wonder Warfield deserted you! And even my ace in the hole, Mr. Findley, failed me. And what do I do now? I send over our Nova to finish the job, but even she proved to be futile. Plus we got this goddamn reporter broadcasting this bullshit all over the sector!"

He finished loudly, watching his son shrink. Every one of his options had begun to crumble. If things didn't change, it wouldn't be long until he would have to enforce his rule with Marshall law. His popularity had receded while Jim Raynor's soared. His spies reported that succession movements in the Fringe Worlds were out of control. The Sara system, in the wake of the numerous attacks on its worlds Char and Mar, had completely lost faith in the Dominion. Its government had collapsed and refugees were now fleeing to a Protoss world. With the Dominion's loss in military power, Mengsk couldn't afford to take action against the Protoss for harbouring the refugees and Jim Raynor.

"We still have one option," muttered Arcturus, more to himself than to his son. "Is the experiment still on Castanar?"

"Yes," replied Valerian quietly. "It is not capable of interstellar flight. It remains, destroying what's left of the lab."

"Set it loose."

OOO

"Things are getting interesting," commented Duran. "After millions of years, these three races continue to surprise."

"They are but pawns in the great scheme of things," growled a powerful voice. "They are necessary but not noteworthy. The zerg, the protoss, even the terrans, they are all means to an end, nothing more."

"Would the Makers approve of our actions?" inquired Duran.

"My brethren were short sighted and naive pacifists," snarled the voice in the darkness. "We Xel'Naga have our faults, but compared to these lesser creatures, we are the gods of the universe. We are perfection! We are pure!"

"Do you suspect we will have problems?" asked Duran, uneasily. His normally sly personality had all but vanished in the presence of this incomprehensible being.

"These tainted creatures can't begin to understand. Their impure bodies cannot begin to grasp the concept that we bask in: Complete Purity. We left the clues. We gave them the proper tools to comprehend what we are, but it is futile. These adulterated races will never be able to understand us, the pinnacle of life. We need not worry. This cycle has continued for aeons and aeons. Do not expect unsurmountable complications from these poisoned creatures. We have already returned twice over aeons of time."

"Millions of years, we have waited," said Duran excitedly. "We watched these races evolve along the desired path. After all these millennia, our wait is nearly finished."

"The rebirth of my kind is at hand," declared the voice. "Soon I shall emerge from darkness and the universe will know me."

His loud voice resonated on the small moon, he rested on. The very galaxy began to bend to his will. Stars flickered dangerously, debris of gigantic proportions were drawn towards this being of absolute power, and even the millennia old Duran took a step back.

"I am the last of the Xel'Naga," the being roared in all its might. "I have endured while all others perished. I have been tasked as the Vanguard for the Return of the Xel'Naga. And as the Xel'Naga fell with time, so did their traditions. We can no longer rely on the pacifism of the past. My time is nearly finished. If I disappear, this universe will be without a guardian. There will be no one to help guide the races on the path to purity. I have waited long enough. I tried to give the old traditions a chance. I waited patiently and silently for the purity of form and essence to merge peacefully over time. But that time is over. I grow old. I was selected as the youngest of our kind, yet now, my years have far surpassed theirs. My days are numbered, and I must ensure the continuation of my species before the last of us is gone. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Amalgamation is preferable to hybridization unfortunately, we no longer have time. It is not as my brothers intended, but we must survive, in any way, in any form possible. Our return shall be less glorious than returns in the past aeons, but we shall return nonetheless. Purity _will _be realized!"

Duran bowed and slowly made his way out of the room.

"Purity," muttered the voice. "This language does not do us justice."

OOO

Covered by the veil of darkness, the Dark Templar moved forward. Zerglings quietly wimpered as they were impaled by unseen warriors. A hydralisk awoke to the noise of one clumsy Dark Templar. The zerg minion was sliced in half by the warp blade of one Zeratul. Telepathically chastising his subordinate, Zeratul pressed on. Behind them, the less eloquent Fenix moved robotically, and more carefully. Then they came to a mighty zerg creature. None had witnessed this monstrosity before. The Protoss were uneasy to engage this huge, albeit sleeping, beast.

"What creature is this?" asked Fenix in disgust.

"I believe Raynor once spoke of a zerg monster, larger than an Ultralisk and as cunning as a Zerg Queen," murmured Zeratul. "But a repulsive beast such as this will not halt the First borns!"

The Dark Templar closed in on the sleeping Brutalisk. They readied their warp blades and in an instant they struck. The Brutalisk's eyes snapped open. Everywhere, the Dark Templar had stabbed the beast with their weapons. Its eyes became blind, its skin had been broken, and the Templar struck at its heart. It was too fast for the creature to even make a sound. Its eyes slowly closed once more, forever.

An overseer ventured dangerously close to the Protoss and revealed them. Shrieking a loud cry, all zerg in the area were notified of the alien presence. Sighing, Zeratul removed his cloak, as did his brethren. Fenix came forward in excitement.

"Finally, I can taste my first battle in years! Behold, Zeratul, you're Dark Templar may be masters of stealth, but there is none who may best me in the field of battle."

Zeratul decided not to mention Kerrigan to the proud warrior.

Powering his phase disruptors, Fenix fired two salvos into the nearest roaches. Their heavy carcasses exploded. Yelling a triumphant cry, the Dark Templar charged forward, ready to do their part. The familiar hum of the warp blade, filled the air as satisfying zerg squeals followed. Zeratul remained beside Fenix, fending off any zerg that got too close.

A Brood Lord was called to the battle. Its broodlings claimed the lives of two Dark Templar. The rest decided to battle far away from the deadly air monster. It took aim at Zeratul and Fenix.

"I will shield you, Zeratul," spoke Fenix as he stepped in front of the old warrior. His hardened shields shone brightly as they were activated by the powerful attack of the Brood Lord. Zeratul made quick work of these small creatures, though the Brood Lord continued to send in more.

"High Templar Garran, move your Void Rays into position to assist us," ordered the leading Dark Templar.

Above their heads, the mighty void rays appeared and fired a steady stream of blue energy into the Brood Lord. It shook it off, but the power steadily grew until, the zerg's skin began to boil. It exploded and its remnants fell to the earth, where an equally bloody battle was being waged.

"You were charged with the defence of Antioch twice," Zeratul told his companion. "How may we better our situation?"

Fenix laughed. "Fear not, Zeratul, the last of my forces on Antioch have come to aid us."

Balls of pure psionic power rocketed past the heads of the Dark Templar. Quickly and methodically, they found targets to maximize their effect. The balls of energy crashed into the zerg army. Zerglings, Hydralisks and some Roaches as well were consumed by the blasts. The Dark Templar looked for their saviours and found the golden slug like machines on a ledge above.

"Ha!" cried Fenix proudly. "The Protoss of Shakuras may have forgotten the powerful Reavers, but I certainly have not. Watch as their scarabs make quick work of our enemies!"

Zeratul was amused by his friend's vigour in battle. He would not let Fenix outdo him. He charged forward, determined to forward his kill count.

OOO

Fenix was mesmerised by the rising sun of Aiur. He had dreamed of seeing it rise over a free Aiur. Hopefully, his dream would soon be realized. He looked at the battlefield. The Protoss had fought all through the night. The void rays silently trailed behind the ground forces as they continued to march on, slaying any zerg creatures trying to flee by burrowing. They found themselves at the capital of Antioch. The once golden city was now desolate and a shadow of its former glory. Fenix's eyes gleamed with anger and swore retribution on those who defiled his home. The spires of the great city, rose above the heads of the Protoss. It seems the zerg had vacated the area upon their defeat the earlier night. The streets of the city were all but empty and the Protoss continued on. They made their way to the center of the city, the pride of Antioch remained standing after all these years of the zerg contamination. The Observatory still stood tall, above all other structures in the city. Its bright Khaydarin crystal remained lit atop the temple and the Protoss eagerly entered the temple.

Fenix passed a nearby window in the Observatory, looking away quickly. His first death had been here. His psionic powers had been disrupted and he was powerless against the large hydralisk that would soon be his slayer. The protoss force arrived at the top of the tower where Fenix merged his spirit with the Khala connection that governed the temple. He instructed the Observatory to reactivate all Observers over Aiur. Hundreds of screens had flickered to life as the faithful observers over Aiur had been awoken to play their part.

"Incredible," remarked Zeratul. "We are nearly ready. With our sight returned, all that remains is to rescue the Colossi from the dark depths of the ocean. When that is realized, we will have every possible advantage over the zerg."

"I will remain here on Antioch," said a nameless Dark Templar. "I have few probes with me. I shall use them to repower our fallen city and establish a forward base."

"Very well," said Zeratul. "We shall go to the western seas. The reclamation of Aiur is within our grasp. Let nothing deter us. En taro Tassadar!"

OOO

Boarding the Hyperion, Raynor made his way to his favourite spot, the Cantina. There he found a blonde woman, drowning herself in alcohol. Her agitation showed. Small flickers of her cloak suit made Raynor wary but he approached the ghost nonetheless.

"Drinking your sorrows away, Nova?" asked Raynor sitting next to her.

"You could say that, Jimmy," replied the intoxicated female.

"So what's the problem," demanded the commander.

"My Neural Inhibitors were taken out, and it removed the damages of my Memory Swipe. Let's just say, I didn't like what I saw."

"Wanna talk about it," asked the concerned rebel leader.

"I'm not so sure you'll be pleased with what I have to say," remarked Nova.

"Try me."

"Alright," sighed the ghost, taking another swing out of her drink. "My mother died shortly after I was born. My father was a cruel-hearted bastard who would have left me for dead if it weren't for my psychic ability. He had me committed to the ghost program while he went off to do more important things. Later on, he tried to put me into the Spectre program. When my application refused, he tried to forcefully drug me with Terrazine gas. The only memory I have of him before the Ghost Program was when he kneeled down beside me. He said: _Now get strong girl. Make something out of yourself. And when you do, maybe I'll finally have some use for you. Until then, don't ever associate yourself with me."_

The ghost stood up and hurled her cup at a nearby wall. She fumed and marched to the center of the room, underneath the jukebox. If she were a couple inches higher, Nova would have reached up and tore than damn machine from the roof.

"My father saw me as a tool. My instructors saw me as a tool. I have served the Dominion as nothing but a tool," she spoke bitterly.

"I don't see you as a tool, Nova," replied Jim seriously. "You're still human. You deserve recognition beyond what you've gotten so far."

She laughed. "You're a sweetheart, Jimmy but you might change your tune soon."

"Do you want to track down your father?" asked the commander.

Nova nodded slowly. "It's pretty convenient seeing as he's the same man you've been hunting for years."

* * *

**Author's Note: So how about that? Remember this is fanfiction. I'm free from the restrictions of the established Starcraft lore. No need to comment on the inaccuracies. I am fully aware of them. They are deliberate. Again, please review, I try to keep an open mind to all criticisms.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: This is a very combat heavy chapter. If you are one of those people who doesn't enjoy reading this (I don't particularly enjoy writing combat) I've written a small abbreviated version of the story:**

**Protoss vs Zerg**

**Zerg: gg**

**But seriously, in response to a review by Khail, he has many true points. While I don't think it warrants an entirely new story, I think it's important to note that the story is moving away from Kerrigan's recovery. This story has always been mostly character-driven. I've developed her character as much as I possibly can at this point, at least in this stage of the story. Don't worry, I have a plan. I know how this story will end and trust me I have some interesting things planned for Sarah Kerrigan.

* * *

**_"Do you want to track down your father?" asked the commander._

_Nova nodded slowly. "It's pretty convenient seeing as he's the same man you've been hunting for years."_

"I need a drink," said Raynor quickly as he reached for his trusty alcohol.

Nova looked away. "I told you that you'd change your tune."

"Mengsk betrayed me," stated Raynor. "His son betrayed me. And now he's sent his daughter. I...I don't know what to think. You don't seem like that type of person anymore, but...that's what I thought about Arcturus and Valerian."

Nova raised her bottle of whiskey. "Let's just drink away our sorrows, Jimmy."

Jim was content with that. He took a nearby bottle and let the familiar and destructive liquid flow through his body. It was fair to say both he and Nova were utterly wasted after half an hour. Nova kept cloaking and uncloaking, giggling about being the bogeyman. Raynor found this extremely funny and he almost swallowed his cigar laughing. They ended up close together. Suddenly, Nova quickly leaned forward and their lips touched. The pair stayed still for a moment before their senses returned to them. She quickly pulled away, her face already blushing. Raynor scratched the back of his head, awkwardly.

"I...I don't think we should do that again," said Raynor, lamely.

"Probably not," replied the drunken ghost. "I'm gonna go back and lie down. Um, bye."

She hobbled out of the room. She was shortly followed by Raynor who took another bottle of whiskey. He made his way back to his quarters where he prepared himself for the hangover the next morning. Back in the cantina, a chair was violently kicked over by an invisible force. Sarah uncloaked herself. Her jealousy was already peaking. She decided she'd be keeping an eye on this Nova. She knew Jim wouldn't approve of killing her.

OOO

Zeratul tilted his head to the sky. The slender golden legs of the Colossi surrounded him. The twin lancers looked daunting even from that height. Fenix had counted nearly a hundred Colossi had been recovered functional. Not wanting to alert the zerg to their presence, Zeratul decided against warping themselves back to Antioch in case the psioniclly attuned zerg were to notice. Instead, the Protoss warriors boarded the Colossi and prepared for the long trek back to Antioch. They were ready.

He transmitted a message back to Haven. "Hierarch Artanis, we have secured Antioch and the Colossi. Everything is prepared for the attack."

"Very good," replied Artanis. "Aiur shall be restored. I leave at once. Prepare yourself Zeratul. Today we reclaim our world."

OOO

"Get the rest of those Banshees onboard that Battlecruiser," yelled Raynor.

Zeratul had given the word. Artanis was preparing his ship just as Raynor was. Marines were running everywhere. Machines of war were being hauled onto the massive Dominion BattleCruisers.

"Marines, to your stations!" bellowed Raynor. "We're moving out!"

The few remaining terran soldiers bolted towards the nearest ship, not wanting to be left behind. Raynor boarded his flagship, the Hyperion and gave the order to his large fleet. All other sounds were drowned out as the massive engines of the BattleCruisers began to start. It always amazed Jim, how such a large ship such as the Hyperion could be flight capable.

As he made his way onto the bridge, he already saw Matt Horner barking out orders. Coordinating with the other Battlecruisers, the Hyperion was the first to lift off, shortly followed by their newly acquired Jackson's Revenge thanks to the mercenary contractor Graven Hill. Once all Rebel ships had departed from the planet, the Shield of Aiur had followed suit.

"Do not think we take your help for granted, friend Raynor," spoke Artanis, telepathically. "After this, we will be prepared to aid you in your struggles."

Raynor smiled as he saw his ships alongside the Shield of Aiur warp jump. Jim would never get use to the uncomfortable feeling of going faster than light. Raynor's ships alongside the Mothership had warped next to Aiur's one moon. All held their breath as they descended into Aiur's atmosphere. They were welcomed with the shrieks of Mutalisks and Corruptors. They immediately attacked the Battlecruisers surrounding the Shield of Aiur.

"All laser batteries fire!" ordered Horner.

The Battlecruisers unleashed their salvos of orange fury. Zerg air power was ripped apart as the daunting fleet of Terran and Protoss continued to advance. The zerg had regrouped and attacked with an immense air force of unlimited number. Raynor began receiving status reports from nearby captains indicating that their shields were dangerously low. Not wanting another disastrous incident on Char, Raynor gave the signal to Artanis.

"Initiating Time Bomb!" he spoke loudly.

A semi-transparent bubble erupted from the tip of the Mothership and fell over the Battlecruisers. The zerg attacks slowed within the bubble. Finally, reaching the bare minimum velocity, their trajectory was broken and they gave way to gravity. Multiple Battlecruiser captains sighed in relief. The time bomb was momentary and the bubble receded as the fight continued.

Artanis surveyed the battle from his Mothership. He felt that he was close enough now. He prayed that the Shield of Aiur would be able to handle what he was about to do. He had removed the many other powers of the Mothership for this specific reason. Channelling all his psionic energy into the Mothership, he felt the overwhelming power that he had experienced when he held the Khalis crystal during the Brood Wars.

"Initiating Mass Recall!"

On Shakuras, the Protoss stood waiting, silently, knowing that in the blink of an eye, they'd be on the battlefield fighting for their lives. The Executors and the warriors all were reduced to a shimmer of blue light. And in a split second, the entire might of the Protoss military vanished from Shakuras. They sped through warp space towards their destination.

The power of the Mothership was waning. Artanis desperately called upon every last ounce of strength to hold the Mass Recall. If he let it collapse, it would mean the end for all within the Mass Recall.

"Hold for a while longer," whispered Artanis urgently.

The cries of the zerg assured the young Hierarch that his plan had succeeded. He gazed at the ground. The Protoss were everywhere. The mighty fleet of Carriers from Executor Selendis flew on their right while the majestic armada of Void Rays under the command of Prelate Mohandar, banked left. Underneath him, the small group of Phoenix ships led by Prelate Urun descended, ready to wreck havoc upon the zerg forces. Below, Artanis bore witness to every Protoss warrior fighting for their homeworld.

The ground forces of zerg and Protoss charged at one another. Raynor saw from above as the two waves of gold and violet closed in on one another. In the air, the mighty air force of Terrans and Protoss had quelled the zerg air threat and were throwing all attacks at the sizeable zerg ground force. From that altitude, the zerg were powerless to fight back. Instead they instinctively charged at the ground forces, hoping to make it before they were destroyed by a laser battery or a prismatic core beam.

The zerg were halted in shock by what stood behind the charging zealots, dark templar and immortals (**A/N: I hate stalkers!)**. Even the charging Protoss ground force slowed and watched in awe as the towering Colossi moved forward. The ground force roared in hope of victory as they continued their charge towards the zerg. The zerglings had pulled in front of the rest of the zerg ranks, eager to rip apart Protoss flesh. Taking quick aim, the Colossi unleashed their twin lancers upon the small zerglings. The battlefield was momentarily split in a burning line of orange carnage. Hundreds of zerglings were killed, their bodies charred and crushed by the next zerg minions that advanced.

The dark templar, in all their invisibility, had moved in front of the rest of the force. Even before the zerg had reached their foes, they already found themselves being sliced and impaled by the warp blades of the Protoss. Scattered, confused and leaderless, the zerg mindlessly continued despite the heavy losses they were incurring. They had finally come within distance of the visible Protoss force. But even that held consequences.

The phase disruptors of the immortals winked blue as they unleashed their rounds into the zerg. Roaches tried to scurry underground to avoid the attack, but they were not fast enough. Everywhere, the zerg fell before they had even begun to attack. It was a slaughter. Multiple Ultralisks had toppled onto their fellow minions as the power of the Immortals proved too much. But once again the zerg had a near infinite army. More zerg advanced and finally, the zealots engaged in combat.

"En taro Tassadar!" they cried in unison.

Even those above could hear the call of the zealots. The battle hardened zealots used their psionic power to transform themselves into pure energy and charge at the zerg in an all consuming wave of blue ferocity. Psionic blades ignited and the zealots eagerly slashed through zerg ranks.

Only through the view of Raynor and Artanis, could one grasp the sheer scale of this battle. Artanis sensed the trusty robotic observers everywhere, recording the battles, providing quick tactical data to the ground forces.

"Lurkers!" exclaimed the Hiearch. "Executor Selendis, concentrate your Interceptors on the exposed Lurkers on the ridge!"

Like a swarm of insects, the interceptors were launched from their carriers and zoomed towards the Lurkers who mistakenly thought they were safe.

"Prelate Mohandar, concentrate Void Ray fire on the Brutalisk to the north!"

Even the huge Brutalisk only withstood a few seconds from the dozens of Void Ray attacks.

"Zeratul, Fenix," called the Hierarch. "There are too many Nhydus worms supplying the zerg forces. We won't be able to move forward unless they are eliminated.

"It shall be done," replied Fenix in a robotic fashion.

He and the Dark Templar avoided the major battle as they flanked towards the many Nhydus worms which were already spewing out more and more zerg forces. Fenix was the first to engage. His twin cannons hit a Nhydus worm in the eyes. It reeled up in pain and descended back into its hole, taking the zerg reinforcements with it. Zeratul and the other Dark Templar charged forward, preparing to sever the heads of the giant Nhydus worms.

Fenix' shields flared as he deflected multiple Hydralisk spines coming from the ridge. The zerg had grouped on a vantage point overlooking the battlefield where they had a huge field of vision and the high ground. Behind the immortal, a welcomed screech of Terran banshees was heard. They destroyed the ledge with their cluster rockets as Zeratul continued to slay the Nhydus Worms. Numerous Medvacs had descended to the surface of Aiur. Terran armor of all kind exited the ships. The siege tanks quickly moved forward and went into siege mode. The Helions, Vultures and Diamondbacks moved quickly to make hit and run attacks on the slower zerg forces like the daunting Brutalisks that occupied much of the battlefield.

The air threat had once again become dangerous. Raynor and Artanis tore their gaze away from the ground battle to deal with the incoming threat. The corruptors unleashed a deadly slime onto many of the ships. They reported system failure. Some ships plummeted to the surface, unable to maintain flight. Horner cursed angrily and directed all batteries to the Corruptors. Then he paled. Raynor looked and saw the problem. Legions of scourges were headed straight for the fleet. Matt Horner personally aimed the Hyperion's Yamato Cannon. With any luck, he could take out the whole group with one round. Praying silently, he fired the massive weapon and the small flying creatures exploded on impact. Only a few scourges survived the Yamato Cannon. They smashed their carapaces into the hulls of the ship. With such few scourges, the damage was minimal.

Warfield fired more rounds from his gauss rifle, and then some more from his mechanical arm. He grinned like a madman. The last battle, they were on the defensive. This time, the old general was exhilarated about pushing the zerg back. None of his five attacks on the swarm had been of this magnitude. He couldn't even begin to imagine how many soldiers were on the battlefield. This was all out war. And Warfield liked it. More marines poured out of a nearby Medvac. A siege tank exploded nearby which pushed the general off his feet. Roaches from all over poured through the defensive gap.

"Marines, hold the line!" bellowed the general. "We need back up! Get me some black ops units down here now! I want them over on that ledge to provide sniper support."

A Protoss high templar came forward towards the general. "The Zerg reinforcements have halted. It is time to advance."

Warfield nodded. "Get the Thors moving! We'll need them to push forward. All siege tanks go mobile! Let the armour lead the push. We're moving out!"

Several Brood Lords had appeared over a ridge. Their broodlings rained down upon Protoss and Terran forces. Neither marines nor zealots could keep up with the zerg minions. They claimed many lives and began to push the Protoss and Terrans back.

"This is General Warfield, we need air support now!" yelled the aging military leader.

Numerous Phoenix ships led by Prelate Urun led the charge. Their weapons made quick work of the powerless Brood Lords.

Artanis surveyed the battlefield. They were pushing the zerg back. Soon the zerg army would find themselves between the Protoss and Terran armies, and the Antioch defences. They would be forced to fight on both sides. However, the zerg were massing heavily near the ground forces. They had to be taken out all at once.

"Nuclear launch detected."

A warhead was dropped from the Hyperion. Under the watchful guidance of a ghost's laser designator, it sped to its target, the heart of the swarm army. Making sure friendly forces would not be caught in the blast, Nova aimed the warhead directly into the center of the zerg army. A devastating explosion ripped across the terrain, even Nova felt it from such distances. It was a smart bomb. All radiation was diluted into the atmosphere until the quantities were harmless. But it left an impressive mushroom cloud nonetheless.

After waiting the appropriate amount of time to let the radiation pass over, Terran forces advanced. The siege tanks rolled over dead zerg carcasses. The Protoss forces advanced much slower. They were wary of this new Terran weapon of mass destruction and its effects. The remaining zerg scrambled away from the army in full retreat. As they made their way towards the capital city of Antioch, they were greeted with the awakening of the Photon Cannons. Blasts of psionic energy cut the last of the zerg forces down.

Terran and Protoss forces rolled into the streets of the Antioch capital shouting in triumph. It was not often for a Dominion soldier to have two victories in a row. But this was much more meaningful to the Protoss. They had taken the first steps to driving the zerg off their planet. With Antioch retaken for the third time, Protoss everywhere were hopeful of future victories.

"En taro Artanis!" roared a Dark Templar.

"En taro Artanis!" replied the rest of the Protoss.

"And it begins," said Zeratul. He watched his brethren celebrate with their Terran allies. "The road ahead is bleak but we will keep fighting until we can see the shining sun of Aiur rise above the last corpses of the zerg. It is not without you, that this victory could be achieved."

"We stick by our allies," said Raynor firmly. "Till the end."

Zeratul observed him. "Human tenacity. It is a mystery beyond the comprehension of the Protoss, the Khala or the Void. You terrans are blessed with it. And it is what makes your race a force to be reckoned with. Overtime, perhaps the Protoss shall learn it as well. Until that day comes, I am glad that you are fighting beside us once more, James Raynor."

OOO

"Jim, we need to talk," said Kerrigan. "You told me that the first step in my atonement was to fight for those who fell."

Raynor knew where this conversation was going. "I want to fight."

"Are you sure you can handle facing the zerg again, Sarah?" asked the commander.

"I'm not scared of them anymore, Jim," said Kerrigan. "I'm not scared of death either. If they try to take me, I know what to do."

Raynor grabbed her shoulders. "It won't come to that darling, I promise. You might not be scared of your death but I am."

Kerrigan moved in and embraced the man she loved. Her psychic powers flowed through Raynor's mind and no thoughts but compassion were revealed to her.

"I can't lose you again," Raynor said. "Promise me you'll come back just the way you are now."

Sarah nodded. "And in any case, I can't believe you let that Nova go groundside over me."

Raynor froze. Did she know?

"Yup," Kerrigan replied.

"Damn it, I forgot you were a psychic!" cursed Raynor.

"You were inebriated. That's why you're off hook. Nova is another situation entirely," Sarah cracked her knuckles menacingly. Thankfully, Raynor didn't hear the last part.

"If you want to go back into the field, I need to make sure you're ready."

"I can take whatever you throw at me, Jim,"

The door opened and Nova stood in full combat gear, waiting for her opponent. A crazy smile formed on Kerrigan's face. This day just got a whole lot better.

"The rumours were that you were the most psionically gifted Terran in history," called Nova, circling her opponent. "Let's see if there's any truth behind the tale."

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**Author's Note: Yeah, I don't like writing battles that much so forgive me if this chapter isn't up to standard. But in my penitence for writing such a combat heavy chapter, I will post the next chapter today **


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Okay, let me say, I never intended the scene between Nova and Jim to carry any long term romantic implications. Forgive me if that's how it looked. It was simply a catalyst for the animosity between Sarah and Nova. Think of it less as a romantic gesture and more as an acrimonious start to the relationship between the two ghosts.**

** This chapter is returning to character development, this time staring Jim Raynor! I've always thought Raynor was an unlikable, flat and boring character simply existing to forward the plot. I'll try to do my best to properly expand him into a dynamic and at least understandable character.**

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They sparred briefly. Kerrigan was still not fully recovered. Her wide swing was caught by Nova and she was flipped on her back. She got up quickly and regained her position. A high kick was blocked but another landed in Nova's stomach, winding her. Kerrigan quickly tried to capitalize on the situation but the blonde was fast. Unfortunately, Sarah had experience on her side. She successfully struck Nova again, this time to her pretty face.

"That's for what you did in the Cantina," said Kerrigan.

Nova responded with a blow of her own. "Aww, is little Sarah jealous? Afraid I'll take away Jimmy from you?"

Sarah growled. She spun around, her flowing red hair, dancing around her. Her hand made a fist and prepared to launch it at the blonde. It was caught.

"Just so you know, nothing happened," said Nova.

"That's not what it looked like," responded Sarah stubbornly.

"We're both ghosts here," declared the blonde. "Let's take it up a notch."

She cloaked and Sarah did the same. Kerrigan tried to dampen her psionic signature as much as possible, but she was too powerful. Nova immediately caught on to Kerrigan's position. She struck and Kerrigan's cloak fell. Sarah rubbed her chin.

"You're good," she complimented.

Nova smirked under the cloak of invisibility and made for another strike. Her wrist was caught and she was forcefully thrown to the ground with a knee between her shoulder blades.

"You're not _that_ good," corrected Sarah.

She let Nova go, and they both prepared to continue fighting. Nova carried herself with dignity. She had long known herself as the best ghost. Kerrigan decided she would teach this girl some humbleness. They continued to spar, both suffering strikes at the hands of the other. Weakened, Sarah fell down, confused. Her body was bruised. The injuries did not disappear. She was not regenerating.

Kerrigan planted both her hands on the ground. She saw Nova charging. She instinctively threw her shoulder forward. Nothing happened. Sarah's eyes widened. Her blades were gone. She earned a knee to the jaw.

"What's the matter, Sarah?" asked the blonde, panting heavily. "Jimmy must be exaggerating your strength."

"You know, little girl," called Kerrigan. "It's about time, I broke your pride."

Kerrigan cloaked and slipped out of Nova's grasp. She reappeared and threw a psionic blast of inertia at Nova. Nova countered with her own. Each struggled to maintain enough power to continue. Their battle was interrupted as both their powers were cancelled and they fell to the ground, weakened. A voice was heard on the intercom.

"The last thing I need is a cat fight on my hands," announced Raynor.

"Stay out of this, Jimmy!" yelled Nova.

"Turn off our psionic dampeners!" demanded Kerrigan. "I was just getting started."

"You both got it out of your systems and you've both proved your worth. Now you gotta stop before you two kill each other."

Nova growled before turning around and exiting the room first. Kerrigan's eyed narrowed. Nova made herself look like the bigger person by leaving first. Maybe her blonde prejudices were kicking in, but Sarah was sure of one thing: she did not like Nova.

OOO

Kerrigan exited the room and found Jim waiting for her. She smiled as she walked over to him. He struggled to return it.

"I beat her right?" said Sarah. "I know I did."

Raynor smiled at Sarah's antics. Nova and Sarah were far too much alike. Maybe that's why they had gotten competitive.

"So how'd I do commander?" asked the red head.

"I have no doubt in your abilities," said Raynor. "But you're not going into the field."

He turned around and began walking away. Sarah was stunned momentarily before she felt angry and ran after the idiot.

"Why not?" demanded the ghost. "You saw me kick Nova's ass! And she's a ghost! What more proof do you need?"

"You're ready to put your life on the line for those people," said Raynor quietly. "But I'm not. When I saw you fighting with Nova, I knew it was just a spar, but still, my heart stopped beating and I feared for your life."

"So that's it, huh?" asked Sarah throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "You gonna keep me barefoot and pregnant?"

"Better than dead or dying," responded James, darkly.

"You told me that I owed all those dead people my blood, sweat and tears," Sarah argued hotly. "You said I was supposed to remember them and their sacrifice by fighting for their living counterparts."

"Humanity is a precious thing, you know this better than most," murmured Jim. "Someone like you, who had it stolen, shouldn't be so eager to risk it again, even for a noble cause. Sometimes we can't just fight for our humanity. Sometimes we have to celebrate it."

Sarah's anger died off and she only saw a compassionate man. "Sarah, you've made sacrifices of your own. You fought enough battles for 5 marines. You don't need to do this. I meant what I said back in the lab but it's different now. I mean it's only been a month since you came back. And half the time, you spent it unconscious. You only had a couple days to revel in your humanity. I saw you swimming nude in the pond at Haven. You should be back there, not here on the battlefield.

"I am there!" claimed Sarah. She knew he wouldn't understand.

"Do this for me," Raynor begged. "Please, Sarah, I want you to experience life again before you put it on the line. That's all I'm asking."

Understanding and compassion swept Sarah's mind. Then it was followed by another thought.

"Celebrate my humanity," Sarah repeated. "James Raynor you hypocritical son of a bitch, when is it your turn? When do you get to celebrate your humanity?"

Jim was taken aback. "I've caused you pain," stated Sarah. "We both suffered these past couple years. Why am I so entitled to my humanity and you are not? I was infested, but you had to watch it knowing that you couldn't do a thing. I know you, James Raynor. You don't want to be here sending soldiers off to their deaths any more than I do."

She grabbed his shirt. "You're human too. Let's celebrate our humanity together. Don't put me on such a high pedestal. You suffered as much as I did, Jim. If I'm to celebrate my humanity, I want you to do it with me, for your sake and for mine."

Raynor looked steadily at the floor. "I don't know if I can anymore," he muttered. "I've become so desensitized to war at this point. Battles are nothing to me anymore. I don't even call these soldiers my men! I call them units. And I direct them to their deaths sometimes. And when they die, I don't mourn anymore. I don't lament. I simply write it off as an acceptable loss and get more units. Maybe...maybe I've lost _my_ humanity."

Sarah felt her heart break as she watched the man she love, lay it all on the table. He didn't dare look at her. Wiping her eyes of tears, Sarah walked up to Jim and struck him in the face, closed fist. He his head reeled backwards and he finally looked at the fiery red head.

"How dare you," she whispered. "How dare you deny yourself the reprieve that you gave me. You gave me back my humanity. You saved me. You can't have lost it. You can't. You were my pillar of hope. I looked to you in my darkest days as the shining beacon of everything humanity stood for. How can you stand here and say that you no longer have what you're fighting for? What the hell is the point of all this then? Why fight for a cause that you no longer hold true?"

"Maybe I've sacrificed my humanity so others can keep theirs," said Raynor slowly.

Sarah's eyes shone with tears. She wouldn't accept that her humanity had come at the cost of his. She had regained hers. He could regain his.

Her voice was shaky. "You told me that there was no greater insult than to the dead than to surrender your humanity."

"I'd rather offend the dead than see millions more join their ranks," said Jim. He couldn't bring himself to look at Kerrigan again. "My desensitization...my loss of humanity, maybe its for the best. I've made cold calculating decisions as of late. I've sent good men to their deaths knowing that many more lives will be saved in the process. Maybe humanity needs someone to sacrifice for the benefit of all."

"Humanity needs someone to stand by its convictions!" cried Sarah. "Don't go down this path! Let me save your humanity just as you saved mine. I refuse to believe after all you've done, you could lose your humanity! Damn it, you _represent_ humanity!

"We've both changed," said Raynor. "I'm not the same guy you met on Antiga Prime."

He didn't want to have the conversation any longer. Sarah helplessly watched as Raynor turned around and stumbled away from her. He rounded the corner, and Sarah didn't hold back the tears. Had she known this would happen, she would have gladly offered her humanity in exchange for Jim's. He had been the most decent man, she'd known, and now because of her, he was on the brink of collapsing into the precarious depths of callousness. She wouldn't let that happen. Above all the 8 billion people, she owed Jim the most.

"So now you see," said Matt Horner, behind Sarah. "Now you see why you can't leave. You're the only thing holding Jim back from falling apart. Now you know why Jim drowns himself in liquor, day after day. That poison is eating away at his spirit. The man you once knew, the man I once served, he's fading away. For the sake of all of us, I hope he pulls himself out of this destructive path."

Sarah looked back at the fading silhouette of Jim. She would not let him succumb to the darkest evil. Even if she had to step out of her pond to pull Jim back into reality, she would do so. She would not let him drown while she still floated above. This time, she'd save him.

OOO

It was late in the evening on Aiur. Bunkers and photon cannons had been set around the perimeter of the city. Their defences were nigh impenetrable. The capital had risen from a departed city to a mighty fortress in under a day. Jim knew it would take a force beyond the leaderless zerg to break through. He could sleep safely tonight, but he didn't. Jim never slept well after Tarsonis. He paced around his room, frustratingly looking for more alcohol amongst the countless empty bottles.

"_He is an unscrupulous lawless revolutionary,"_ whispered Mengsk inside Raynor's head.

Raynor tightly made a fist. Was he angry about Mengsk lying? Or was he angry that Mengsk was right? Without the soothing comfort of his long time companion, alcohol, Raynor laid his head back on his bed. He doubted he'd fall asleep while still sober, but nonetheless, he tried. His eyes squinted open as the door hissed open. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Sarah had entered his room, as confidently as he had ever seen her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Celebrating our humanity."

She approached Jim, who had become aware of her seemingly missing clothes. For a moment, he thought about stopping, but that thought passed quickly as he and Sarah began what they should have done, the night before Tarsonis. Sarah tilted her head back as she enjoyed Jim exploring her body. She would help reaffirm Jim's humanity and her own in the simplest and purest form.

Passionately, the couple embraced strongly. Jim closed his eyes and thought of nothing but Sarah. Her touch was unexplainably enriching and yet still familiar. Their exchange was won so passionate and intense, Raynor felt as if his very soul was being gently pacified. Words could not explain what the pair experienced. This was beyond what it looked like. No Protoss, zerg or any ancient alien race could have ever comprehended what happened that night. The pair celebrated their existences. They revelled in their humanity and unleashed it upon one another. In all their shortcomings, all their faults, Jim and Sarah crafted the purest moment of humanity. They feared, they loved, they celebrated.

OOO

Sarah rested her head on Jim's chest. She lost track of time. It was inconsequential. The pair had been through more hell than any other Terran could claim. Neither would move and break the euphoric setting even if the Odin itself was pounding at their door. Her red hair fell away, revealing her green eyes and pale face. Jim gazed at the woman. He had nearly lost hope, nearly given up and resigned himself to the cold clutches of heartlessness. This woman had brought him back, just as she claimed. After _she_ had been nearly broken, she rose from the sickening confines of forced cruelty and ripped Jim off the same path. As long as he was with Sarah, Jim knew he would need nothing else.

"You're...you're one hell of a girl, Sarah Kerrigan," breathed Jim.

Sarah turned her beautiful face to Raynor. "Do you understand?" she asked. "Do you really understand humanity now? Do you understand why we must cherish and protect it at all costs, no matter how painful it can be? You taught me this Jim, I'm just helping you remember."

Jim smiled and held his lover tightly next to him. He had felt something stir within him. Something that had beat his cynical thoughts into submission. He felt Sarah Kerrigan. She had been a slave to the wicked beings in the galaxy. And yet she carried more humanity than anyone else. She had lost and regained. She had been struck by tragedies and miracles. And she had been exposed to the cruellest and benign states the universe could offer.

"You're human, Sarah," said Jim firmly.

The red haired woman craned her neck in confusion.

"No I mean, you're truly human," he continued. "A lot of us don't have what you do. We may be human, but we're missing something, but not you. You have the resolve of a soldier, the gentleness of a mother and the courage of a stubborn steadfast child. You're more human than all of us."

Sarah realized all she had previously cherished was not real. Her first breath as a human again, watching Jim gaze down concerned at her, and swimming in the quiet pond, none of it compared to this. Sarah Kerrigan was truly at peace. A life filled with a constant downhill battle, had leapt and bounded over the malicious events of her past. It peaked at a level, not many ever reached. True peace was what she experienced. Her life had finally been harmonized to the highest extent.

"God damn it, I feel like a baby," she groaned as she continued to rub the moisture from her eyes. Touching his face, she sighed. "Do you have no more tears to shed? In joy or sorrow?"

"My eyes are all cried out," replied Jim. "A couple years ago, I'd have wept up a river."

Sarah sat up. "Let me see," she asked. "Please. You've experienced what I've lived through. Let me do the same."

Sarah placed her hand on the top of Jim's head. Her psionic powers flared and she flew through Jim's mind. She saw him, not as the unfaltering hero so many knew, but as a delicate human, subjected to immense amounts of suffering, guilt and pain. The dry eyes she had come to know, were overflowing. She bore witness to Jim as he read the news of his little boy, who had died in a horrific shuttle accident. She felt his pain. She saw him crush the letter from the Ghost Academy, watched as he couldn't even find the strength to be angry. Jim had had his heart brutally ripped from his chest. Sarah continued to watch as Jim reclaimed the corpse of his son, saw sadly as Jim buried his son out near his home with his wife. Then she witnessed Jim's wife, Lidya as she couldn't get over the death of her son. Jim's wife degraded until she couldn't even find the strength to live, and ultimately gave way to the unknowing hands of death. And then Jim was truly alone. Sarah purposefully skipped the events of the Great War. She did not want to see that again. Finally, she came to last anchor of grief in Raynor's mind.

"_You owe me partner! You owe me my freedom!"_

And did he ever. Sarah saw Jim as his mind played with the situation. He had pranced around the galaxy at his own leisure while his best friend had been confined to a tiny room, given little sun light and poor food. Jim would never know how Tychus truly felt. Being forced to betray your best friend for your freedom was not something Jim could imagine. Jim owed him more than his freedom. He owed Tychus everything.

And still, Sarah watched as Jim's best friend got the short end of the stick, again. Beneath that hulking mass of a man, she saw a distraught soul, confused and desperate. And through all of that, Tychus had so much faith in Jim, he trusted his friend so much that he put it all on the line, a second time. And then Arcturus happened. Jim shot his friend, watched him die, and added it to his list of grievances. As the life left Tychus' eyes, Jim was pained knowing that he could never repay his friend for all the sacrifices he had made. Tychus had been a murderer and a criminal, yet at the same time, Jim respected him more than anyone. Forever in debt, unable to escape the always haunting attacks of guilt, Sarah wept for Jim as he wept for his friend.

Her hand came off her head, her mind pulled away from his thoughts. They sat in silence.

"I killed him," muttered Jim. His jaw locked up as he struggled to maintain his composure. "He forfeited everything for me. And I gave him a bullet in return."

Sarah hugged the larger man as Jim finally felt moisture in his eyes. He blinked and a single drop of salted water fell from his face.

"That's the first time I've cried in years," Jim told Sarah.

"When was the last time?" asked the red head, delicately.

She needed to feel Jim's pain, she needed to understand him.

"The last time I shed tears was for you," Raynor said. "It wasn't when you were taken by the zerg. It wasn't when you became infested. It wasn't even when 8 billion people died. It was when I realized what I would have to do. It was when I realized I had to kill you."

"When I was fighting Nova, something happened," admitted Sarah. "I tried fighting as the Queen of Blades. I guess I was more used to that body than my own. We've both experienced some of the foulest experiences, but we're still human. We came out with the skins on our back and the humanity that so many take for granted. I have to believe that that counts for something."

"After all we've been through, you still think we'll make it through this," stated the man. "And if you think that, I know it's true. No more stone coldness. No more grief. We'll crush this new enemy and we'll be alright. I know it."

"So what now, Jim," asked Sarah, playfully. "Do we go play commander and ghost?"

"There's a scouting party being sent out to the Scion province," said Jim hesitantly. "I can arrange for you to join them...if you still want to."

"Well, that's tempting," replied Sarah. "But I think I'd rather spend the day celebrating my humanity. How about you?"

Jim smiled. "The galaxy can survive without us for a few more hours."

The pair began to remember what they had previously forgotten. They were not perfect. They were not pure. But they were human. And for them, that was enough.

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**Author's Note: I really hoped you guys enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I did my best to flesh out Raynor's character and hopefully it was successful. I tried using the cold, detached commander archetype. I spent a lot of time writing Tychus' character so it was a shame to have to kill him off in the first chapter. At least I found a way to bring him back into thought. Please continue to read and review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I didn't realize so many people would be turned off by Nova's drunken pass at Raynor. Hopefully I can redeem her character by properly expanding it.**

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Sarah stepped out onto the battlefield. Her new silver psionically attuned hostile environment suit sent small blue flares up her body, insuring Sarah of its continued functionality. It was early morning on Aiur. Fog had fallen upon the capital of Antioch. It was thick and blanketed the scene in a grey cloud of unknown. She stepped over the broken remains of a destroyed photon canon. A nearby pylon flickered weakly. Its damaged surface spewed out blue energy in waves. Sarah spotted a tall but utterly ravaged sensory tower. Next to it was a malfunctioning and sparking missile turret. It was dead quiet. Sarah stood ready, to face whatever might face her. Visibility had dropped to bare minimums. She reached to her head and pulled down her mask. Its silver shining surface covered the upper half of Kerrigan's face. Her eyes were opened to the piercing vision of heat and psionic signatures.

Ever quietly, Sarah advanced. She decided against using her cloak. She was already barely viewable through the fog. Unnecessary use of the hostile environment suit put more strain on her psionic powers. She spotted a small blob of orange mass. It appeared to be nestled within the ground. She raised her weapon and shot several rounds from her C-10 Canister Rifle. It punctured the protective layer of dirt housing the blob. It continued its path until it reached the blob itself. Sarah saw as the orange mass slowly faded from brightness until a barely visible heap of blue remained.

She reached up and took off her mask, looking at her target. It was a roach, one of the few survivors. Kerrigan continued her hunt. Her momentary lapse in vigilance allowed a nearby zergling, attracted by the noise, to sprint towards Kerrigan with its ugly maw opened wide. Her instincts barely allowed the ghost to point her gun in its direction. She fired several times. While doing so, she noticed a desperate drone escape from the earth and attempted to do what it could with its weak pincers. Skilfully while shooting with one hand, Sarah withdrew her combat knife. Avoiding the, albeit weak, attack of the lowly worker, her knife broke through the carapace of the drone, ending its life.

Kerrigan breathed a sigh of relief. That last encounter had been closer than she would have liked. Every time Sarah killed a zerg, she felt like when she killed the Queen of Blades. It was a good feeling. So she continued. Carefully avoiding a luminous green puddle of acid, Kerrigan cautiously maintained her mission course. A screaming beast of flight tore Sarah's gaze to the skies as 4 Mutalisks bore down upon the lone ghost. Their glave wurm projectiles razed Kerrigan's previous position as she dove for cover. Hiding behind the remnants of an abandoned bunker, she planned her next move. Bolting away, she concentrated and mustered a psionic storm of crackling blue lightning. The Mutalisks screamed again, though in pain. Their bodies, unable to handle the concentrated energy, began to lose control. Their muscles had been fried. Unable to support themselves, the beasts crashed into the ground, forcefully leaving craters as the only markers of their previous existence.

A roar behind Kerrigan forced her to turn around. An ultralisk was charging at the red headed assassin. Its charge was halted as a satisfying crack of a sniper rifle was heard. The bullet pierced the monster's brain and it toppled over, long before it reached Sarah. Kerrigan spotted Nova, brandishing her sniper proudly.

"I never would have thought that so many zerg survived after that Baneling rush last night," commented the blonde ghost.

"They're resilient," responded Kerrigan, curtly.

"Like you?"

Sarah took a deep breath, not wanting give in to the instigation. "Yeah, just like me."

Nova started walking beside Kerrigan as they made their way through the fog. The duo was fairly silent. The only exchange was between rifles as their explosive discharges rippled through the thick air surrounding the capital.

"Maybe if you call out to them, they'll answer," suggested Nova.

Sarah's anger flared up. Her head whipped around, her fiery hair spinning around her. Her leg crashed with Nova's, forcing the blonde to fall. Kerrigan then aimed her rifle at Nova's forehead.

"I've heard about enough of this," she said quietly. "What's your game?"

Nova raised an eyebrow, daring to show rebellion in face of the ominous weapon threat.

"Why are you still with Jim," clarified Sarah. "He's not keeping you here. You're free to go whenever you want. Jim's already taken precautions to ensuring you don't rat us out to the Dominion. Why don't you pack your bags and go? What's keeping you here?"

"Not all of us were as special as you!" lashed out Nova. "We 'lesser' psychics didn't enjoy the privileges you received in the Ghost Program. Our Neural Inhibitors were a lot more severe than what the 'prodigious' was forced to take. You think that the Ghost Program was hard on you? You couldn't imagine how hard it was for me! Everywhere you went those god damn instructors pampered your bottom knowing that you were the most gifted psychic that would be the ultimate weapon in the Confederate assertion of power. You were treated better than all of us all because some genetic mutation enhanced your psychic potential."

Nova brought herself back to her feet, defiantly staring down the barrel of a gun. "So why do I stay? Why do I continue to fight for Jimmy's struggle for liberty? It's because _I_ know how it's like to lose control. I know what it feels like to lose your freedom, to be suppressed under the rule of terrible people. I wasn't given the luxuries _you_ were given. My Neural Inhibitors were thorough. I was completely captive to the oppression of my very mind. I know how important freedom is. My liberty was taken away as a child. I will fight Mengsk's tyrannous rule until the people can live free. Even if that never happens, even if we fail and the Dominion rule passes down to his arrogant son Valerian, I'll still be content because Jimmy freed me. And I exercised _my_ freedom to fight for the liberty of others."

Sarah holstered her weapon. She understood it. She understood it all. They were very alike, as Jim would say. Sarah wanted to tell her. She wanted to explain to the blonde how she felt exactly the same. She wanted to finally converse with the younger girl who had been subjugated to the same horrible fate as her. She wanted to tell her things she wouldn't even tell Jim. But she wouldn't. During Nova's little speech, Kerrigan had intricately navigated her way through the suburbs of the other psychic's mind. It had been hard to do without Nova's detection due to the blonde's skill and numerous mental defences, but Kerrigan _was_ the most gifted individual to come from the Ghost Program. Her attempt had to be flawless and above all else quick. She withdrew much, but most of it was useless clutter. But she did discern one important thought. It was materialized in Nova's brain as a picture. The picture both angered, confused and made Sarah wary. In the depths of Nova's mind, laid a picture of Arcturus Mengsk. Was Nova a spy still? The thought of mistrust had invaded Kerrigan's head, and she could not shake them. She began to continue her task cleaning up the remnants of the failed zerg raid.

Nova watched the red head disappear into the fog. Nova turned away and walked the opposite direction. Maybe her ginger prejudices were kicking in, but Nova was sure of one thing: she did not like Sarah Kerrigan.

OOO

Raynor surveyed the capital. Luckily the defences had held. He had sent his two top ghosts to clean up the stragglers. But it was scary to wake up to the sound of exploding Banelings. They had broken through two layers of defences before they were halted by the line of siege tanks. Raynor never would have thought the unorganized zerg would have been capable of mustering such an attack. He proceeded to the great Executor Hall in the capital city. He entered the large room. Staring at him through screens, were the faces of Fenix, Selendis, Mohandar and Urun. Artanis was the sole figure in the room and he rose to great his terran ally.

"Our tactical meeting has just begun," informed the young Hierarch.

"My forces have secured the better half of the Scion province," declared Selendis. Her eyes glanced at Raynor, taunting him to declare similar achievement.

"Very good. How goes the battle in the jungle?" asked Artanis eagerly.

"There has been little resistance," replied Fenix lazily. "There was a surviving Protoss tribe that we found, calling themselves the Tal 'Darim. Their minds had already succumb to insanity and we were forced to return them to the Khala."

"I can wait no longer," interrupted Mohandar from his Void Ray. "My time is short. I must return to the battle. We face heavy resistance on the River of Light. My forces have secured the high ground for the time being, but the fighting is fierce. I request reinforcements. The metal Terran cannons should suffice."

Raynor smiled proudly. Even the mighty Protoss respected their siege tanks. "I'll send down 2 Siege Breaker mercenary units for immediate reinforcement. I'll send another half a dozen tank units over to your location, as soon as I can, Praetor."

Mohandar nodded before his screen flickered out of view.

"Praetor Urun, what do you have to report?" continued Artanis.

"As per your orders, Hierarch, we sought out any survivors on Aiur. We have located 8 groups. Probes are being deployed. Hopefully the restoration of a psi field will free our brothers from the stasis they are imprisoned in."

"General Warfield."

"We've secured the pass between the mountains!" the old general reported. "The zerg hive was a little tricky, but luckily, there was a nice little Extractor a little too close. Damn, I never knew Vespene gas was so explosive. If the zerg try another ground assault, they'll find themselves in a chokepoint. We'll hold this position until further notice."

"Very good. Now, there are things we must discuss," said Artanis. "Several hours ago, we faced an attack by the zerg on the capital itself. We held them off, but barely. This was a coordinated zerg attack. The question remains, who is leading the swarm? It is impossible for the zerg to have formulated their attack without a leader."

"Perhaps more shall be revealed upon the return of Zeratul," spoke Fenix. "Has there been any word from him?"

"No," replied the Hierarch. "We have not heard from him since his departure. He was supposed to join us in this meeting."

"Perhaps we should assume the worst," thought Selendis. "It was hasty of Zeratul to attempt to infiltrate zerg lines. The pressing concern for the status of Honorable Tassadar could have waited until we had pushed the zerg farther back. I fear he should have taken at least a small escort."

"Zeratul is as stalwart a warrior as I have ever known," said Fenix confidently. "He will not fail us."

"I pray you are right," announced the Hierarch. "This meeting is adjourned. Return to battle, brave soldiers. Aiur shall yet be restored. En Taro Tassadar!"

OOO

Nova sat alone in the Nuclear Silo. It was quiet and deserted as Nova had hoped. Here, she could hear her own breath echo amongst the long tube of the silo. She sat by herself, atop a nuclear warhead. She thought back to her academy days. It sickened her to remember herself grovelling for the instructor's approval when they cared only for Kerrigan. Nova held little memory of the women herself, but her name was everywhere within the Ghost Academy. Every examination, both practical and theoretical, Nova had scored the highest next to Kerrigan. Yet still they seemed so far apart. The overwhelming shadow of Sarah Kerrigan hid Nova from notice.

Nova had only caught once glance of Kerrigan before she left the Ghost Program. And that one glance funnelled all of Nova's jealousy, resentment and envy into that one person. She remembered herself, still only 12 as she swore to become stronger than that spoiled red head. And yet still, Nova remembered her confrontation with Kerrigan. The whole time, Nova had been using every bit of her strength to match Kerrigan in her weakened state. The gap had not closed at all. Sarah Kerrigan was still the shadow Nova had fought so hard to break away from. Nova checked her Psi signature again. It read 10. Kerrigan's was 12. She hated how the instructors called her Agent 12-862. Nova realized Jimmy was the first person to ever say her name. Not her father or instructors had ever given Nova that tiny morsel of acknowledgement.

"You know, you really should find a better place to hang out," commented Raynor, entering the room. "Sitting on weapons of mass destruction isn't exactly the best place to catch some R&R."

"Maybe to you Jimmy," said Nova. "But this place is exactly what I'm use to. Big empty spaces without a soul in sight."

"That sounds terrible," said Raynor, quite frankly. "Want some company?"

"Not sure I can refuse, Commander," Nova patted a space beside her, on the nuclear warhead.

Raynor was hesitant, but slowly and very carefully manoeuvred his way until he sat beside Nova, on top of a source of raw destructive power.

"So what happened back there?" asked Raynor. "What was all that in the sparring session?"

"I beat her," Nova automatically stated.

"You really looked like you were going to do whatever it took to win," said Jim. "Is it something to do with Sarah."

"Partly," admitted the ghost. "I spent the better half of my life trying to surpass her. She was my benchmark, a test of my strength. I wasn't going to hold back."

"But there's more to it than that," deciphered the commander. "I've seen men...and some women fight before. I can tell when its fuelled by rivalry and when it extends beyond simple competitiveness."

"It's silly," responded Nova, leaping off the nuclear warhead.

Raynor alarmingly steadied the warhead as it was rocking back and forth due to the sudden lack of weight.

"You can tell me, Nova," assured Raynor.

"Nova," she repeated. She liked the sound of her name, especially when spoken by someone else.

"Alright Jimmy, I guess you of all people deserve to know," sighed the blonde assassin. "Do you know what they told us when we entered the Ghost Program?"

Raynor shook his head.

_"All I see in front of me are a bunch of worthless children," barked an instructor. "All of you boys and girls, you're nothing. You're useless to the Confederacy. I'd gladly trade every single one of you for my gauss rifle."_

_ The instructor grabbed his gun and pointed it at Nova. The girl trembled from head to toe._

_ "Please don't kill me," she whispered, terrified._

_ The instructor took the barrel of the gun and hit young Nova on the side of the head, hard. She fell down, with tears in her eyes, clutching her head in pain. The instructor walked over to her and kicked her on her stomach so the rest of the children could see her._

_ "Lesson number 1, never beg. Never sacrifice yourself to the mercy of others. Do you want to be different? Do you want to make a difference? Do you want to be acknowledged by the Confederacy as worthy? If you want to rise from your pitiful insignificant existences and be someone the Confederacy would be proud of, you have to become this!"_

_ The instructor pointed at his rifle. "Become a weapon of the Confederacy and you'll have proven yourself useful. If you can't, you'll end up like this snot forever."_

_ A hard kick landed on Nova's stomach. She whimpered in pain. Tears flowed from her eyes. She had always experienced coldness and detachment from her father, but this was downright cruelty. She was to be made an example for the rest of the children._

"I remember trying so hard from that day on, to prove myself. I wanted the acknowledgement of someone...anyone. But no one would give it. They all had their precious Kerrigan to swan over. I was never even noticed. Little old me faded into the background, no one spared me a second glance. I wasn't worth it. But Kerrigan, the instructors could stare at her all day."

"Jimmy, you've been the kindest man I've ever known," Nova continued. "You were the first person to recognize me, the first person to acknowledge my existence. You were more of a father to me than Arcturus ever was, not to say you're old or anything. When I fought with Kerrigan, I felt you looking. I...I wanted to prove myself to you. I wanted to make you proud of me."

Nova looked down. "I don't want to be a snot for the rest of my life. I don't want to be nothing more than a pitiful insignificant existence. I guess I wanted someone to tell me I was worth...something at least."

Jim had heard enough. He walked over to Nova. "You think you're insignificant? Nova, you took out a thousand zerg a couple days ago. Before that, you hunted down the most violently unstable agents in the sector. You don't need to prove you're worth Nova. I've long since valued you, and not only as a weapon. To hell with your father! If that bastard deserved to rot in hell, he definitely deserves it now. You've been through some tough times Nova. You deserve everyone's respect. And if you have to prove yourself to anyone, it should be your father."

Nova was pulled into a hug. "Thanks Jimmy," she sighed. "You're right. Once this whole alien war business blows over, hopefully our fight will return to the Dominion. When it does, I want to be there. I want to be there when we win. And I want to be there when Arcturus is beaten. I'll be there and I'll prove to him that I made something of myself."

"One day we will confront Arcturus," assured Raynor. "And when we do, I promise you, your old man will be eating his words."

"So you wanna go back up to the Cantina?" asked Raynor. "You can't expect acknowledgement if you don't let people give it to you. And very few people would venture all the way down here for that."

"Alright Jimmy," Nova said, getting up. "But if you try and get me drunk again, you're going to be sorry."

OOO

**Author's Note: Please read and review**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Okay I'm finally posting this. I scrapped 6 different attempts and was frustrated beyond belief. I tried developing Matt Horner but that was a failure. He just waaaay too boring of a character. I also tried to bring Tosh back and develop him, but unfortunately, so much of Tosh's character revolves around his enigmatic persona. I figure the Rastafarian deserved to rest in peace. Finally, I tried making an intimate scene with the Protoss. Forgive the pun, but the scene becomes far too alien to illicit an emotional response. I've come to the conclusion that a human element of some form is required to evoke emotion. So here's the next chapter. No major character development here, I'm just pushing the plot forward.**

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"Surrender to despair!"

Zeratul ducked under some of Aiur's native flora. Glancing over his shoulder, he could not see it, but still, its voice churned trough the foliage. He touched his head. His carelessness had cost him dearly. He suffered a wound to the head. The bleeding had quelled, but the damage was done. His energy clamps had been damaged. Zeratul was leaking psionic energy and propagating his position in the process. He had been chased for 5 days. For 5 days, Zeratul had manuevered through the jungles of Aiur, barely managing to stay ahead, and away from his pursuer. With simply one glance, Zeratul knew this foe was not one to be easily trifled with. His shield of invisibility was all but useless and Zeratul couldn't afford to attack his opponent head on. The warrior's head snapped to the sound of his pursuer. Quickly, he ended his brief reprieve and dashed away from the looming danger once more.

OOO

Troops all around Antioch were on the move. The ground rumbled as the giant Thors trekked with their heavy feet. The sizeable marine escort moved tentatively beside them, carefully manoeuvring themselves to avoid the path of the gigantic war machines. The Protoss and Terran forces were dividing their troops. This detachment was heading out to a forward base in Scion to solidify their presence in the region. Prelate Urun's fleet had been recalled to reinforce Antioch in case of another attack, all the while bringing in the survivors of Aiur that had been located.

Another push into the mainland was already being planned. More Protoss forces were amassing at Shakuras. The latecomers had the reinforcements the Protoss needed to fight such a large scale battle. Unfortunately, there were not enough gateways and stargates to warp in the force fast enough. In order to provide immediate relief for the forces already stretched thin across many fronts, Praetor Fenix was preparing to lead the push into the northern hills. There laid the remnants of the Warp Gate, destroyed after Raynor had begrudgingly rescued Arcturus Mengsk from the UED. Fenix seemed certain it could be rebuilt, and that reinforcements could pour in from Shakuras. In preparation, the twice dead Protoss had sent out a lone probe to scout out the area and establish a psi matrix for warping in his army.

Already, Raynor spotted busy probes warping in more photon cannons to replace the ones lost, and a tenacious SCV had begun the process of rebuilding the Sensory Tower. Two small figures almost managed to avoid Raynor's view, but luckily, he saw the blonde and red hair before they were gone.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jim raised his hands in protest. "Where are you two going?"

"We got a mission, Jimmy," Nova said. "It seems like your old Protoss buddy has bit off more than he can chew. It's been over a week since we lost contact with Zeratul. We've been sent to rescue him."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" demanded Raynor.

"These orders came from the Hierarch," replied Sarah. "This is a low-key operation. There's no Plan B, and there's no back up standing by. We're on our own here."

"Listen, I'll talk to Artanis. At the very least I'll get Graven Hill to loan you a War Pig escort," Raynor objected again.

"Sure," said Nova sarcastically. "If those mercenary jarheads manage to augment their psionic power to a degree where they can bend light around their bodies, then by all means let them come. But if not, they'll just be a hindrance."

"Don't worry Jim," comforted Kerrigan. "We've already got a route laid out, straight for the Overmind, thanks to those observers. Assuming we make good time, and Nova here doesn't slow me down, we should be there and back within a couple days."

Raynor sighed deeply. "Well I guess there's no stopping you."

"It'll be a piece of cake," assured Nova. She lifted her rifle on her shoulder and began to walk.

"We'll be back before you know it," said Sarah, cheerfully.

"You better be."

Raynor held onto Sarah's hand for a moment. The same fear overwhelmed him, like it had when she went down to Tarsonis alone. He prayed the outcome would be different. And if it wasn't, he would never forgive himself. At least on Tarsonis, he had Arcturus to blame. If something went wrong here, Raynor knew he would live the rest of his life knowing he could have stopped it. But it was time for Sarah to play her part and for her sake, begin her reparations to the dead. Jim knew what had to be done. Sarah looked at him, comfortingly but also expectantly. Finally Jim did it.

He let her go.

OOO

"We are to attack our own colonies?" asked Valerian uneasy. "If word of this got out, we would be in big trouble."

"Look around boy!" exclaimed the emperor. "We are in a very dangerous position right now. Thanks to you, our military strength is weakened, though we'll just have to pump out even more recruits from the reformatory facilities. We sacrificed the Prime system to destroy the Dominion. The Sara system has been lost. Any survivors on Mar Sara want nothing more to do with us, or the zerg. The Tarsonis System has long been taken by the mercenaries. That system has harboured grudges against the Dominion ever since the Fall of the Confederacy. And now I hear that the Tyrador System is thinking of breaking away. These fools think that they split at the first sign of trouble."

Arcturus pounded his desk angrily. "I will remind these autonomist systems of the necessity of Dominion protection. The Kel-Morian Combine and the Umojan Protectorate have already begun mobilizing their forces. We do not have the military strength to put down secession movements on all these systems. A more...unorthodox action is needed."

"And how will attacking our own planets solve our problems?" asked Valerian sceptically. "It seems to me, it would only fuel the separatist movement."

"Do not think me a fool," growled the Emperor. "I will do as great leaders of the past have done. Present an outside enemy, even a fake one, and people shall unite to defeat it. We will give these systems a reason to stay with the Dominion. The Castanar project will wreck havoc on their worlds. The threat will be halted and destroyed by our forces and the countermeasures we have created for dealing with the experiment. And then, these ungrateful systems shall be reminded of their need for the Dominion security."

"But, father, if we are exposed again, we will be done for," continued Valerian. "No matter how much you spin it, if the word gets out, it's over."

"The Tarsonis incident is a mistake I do not intend to repeat," said the emperor. "Only a select few will be aware of this operation. Trust me son, the Sector will never think of breaking away after this."

OOO

"We should rest here," breathed Kerrigan.

The two ghosts took shelter in a small cave. They relieved their cloaks of power drainage and removed their cloaks. Sitting next to each other in silence, the duo vied as they tried to enter the other's mind. Both attempts proving futile, they resolved to continue resting in dead silence.

"I may have been the favourite in the Ghost Program," spoke Kerrigan at last, "but that doesn't mean I was treated any better than you."

Nova turned her head, ready to dismiss Kerrigan's claims, but the red haired ghost pressed on.

"Expectations were exceedingly high for me. Those instructors pushed me harder than any of you. Double the promise meant twice the consequence for failure. While you tried to obtain the spotlight, I struggled to be rid of it. I hated the way they looked at me. If you truly knew what I had been through in the Ghost Program, you wouldn't be so eager for attention. You may think you had it tough, but I had it tougher."

"What about the Neural Inhibitors?" demanded Nova. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you had it easier when you were allowed to keep your independence, even a little of it while I was forced to lose all control?"

"You've been controlled for most of your life," said Kerrigan softly. "I've experienced the same thing. It's excruciating isn't it? To sit in the corner of your mind, powerless while you see yourself commit acts without your approval, acting outside of your control. Trust me Nova I know what it feels like. I've been there, I've done that. Your jealousy is misplaced. I wasn't the princess of the Ghost Program. I was just a kid pushed beyond all limits to achieve the sickening goals of the Confederacy."

"Prove it," demanded Nova.

Sarah sighed. The woman was stubborn as all hell. Kerrigan relaxed her mental fortifications, and felt Nova crawl through her mind, looking for a hint of deception. She found none. Nova was at a loss for words. All of her life she thought Kerrigan had been treated better. She thought Kerrigan had excelled to her stature due to preferential treatment. But Kerrigan had become as powerful as she was not through revelling in the lauding she received, but through determination and tenacity through the harsh and more brutal regime of the Ghost Program.

"What they did, the instructors, to all of us, it's unforgivable," whispered Nova. "I'll see that place burned to the ground."

Nova turned to Kerrigan, and stood up. "I was quick to judge, Sarah Kerrigan. Maybe...maybe you didn't have a walk in the park either. Either way, it's time for me to stop acting childish. Let's put aside our petty rivalry. I think it's time that I accept and move on."

Sarah smiled. "Fine with me, Nova. Let's get moving."

OOO

Zeratul stood in silence. His appendages continued to leak out energy, but the warrior had managed to stem the flow briefly. That small period of time would make all the difference in the world. Underneath his arm was the holo-projector unit of a sentry drone. An identical image of Zeratul stood in the clearing while the real Protoss watched from above. He prayed his plan would not fail. A rustle was heard.

"Death comes to you!"

Zeratul finally caught glimpse of his pursuer, charging at the hologram. Zeratul ignited his warp blade. He waited for the right moment, and then he struck.

OOO

"Mr. Hill," greeted Raynor as he walked over.

"Not surprised to see you here," commented to enigmatic figure. "I trust the Jackson's Revenge is performing up to standards?"

Raynor nodded. "I got Swann fixing a second Yamato Cannon onto her. Hopefully it'll be ready before the next push. That's what I came here to talk about. I'd feel much more comfortable if we had more troops. If we're to make an offensive move and still maintain enough defences to hold off an attack, we need a surplus of men. And that's where you come in."

"Are you kidding?" demanded the recruiter. "You've got damn near every mercenary working for you! You've hired nearly all my contacts. We've got all the freelancers in the Sector right here. You can't expect more."

"Well I've gotta try," said Raynor firmly. "This could be the deciding battle to retake the planet. Is there anyone else you can try?"

"I'll see what I can do," grumbled the man.

He typed away at his console for a few minutes. "Alright, I've found a couple more big players. The Kel-Morian Combine and the Umojan Protectorate are in. They pledged 200 men each. The only other large merc force I can think of is Mira Han's group."

Raynor sighed. That woman was nothing but trouble. And it certainly wouldn't help the battle if Matt Horner was agitated the whole time. But Jim wasn't going to fail the Protoss, even if it meant reuniting the awkward couple. The more he thought about it, him and Sarah were an even stranger couple than Matt and Mira.

"Can you reach Mira?" asked Raynor, regretfully.

Mr. Hill shook his head. "I can't get the message through. Knowing Mira, she's probably already snagged a contract of her own. Shame, she's got one hell of a fighting force."

"Well we'll have to make do with a 400 man support," concluded Raynor.

Jim brought up the tactical screen and called Matt Horner beside him.

"Matt, we've got Kel-Morian and Umojan reinforcements inbound," notified the commander. "But it won't do no good if they can't make it to the surface."

The Hyperion captain nodded. "Once our initial force entered the atmosphere, the zerg put up countermeasures. We've detected huge numbers of spore cannons on the surface. Those reinforcements will be like turkey on thanksgiving."

"Scramble a group of Banshees," ordered the Commander. "They should be able to draw fire away from the reinforcements long enough for them to get groundside. We'll send out a couple Wraith escorts to the Kel-Morians and Umojans just incase."

Matt nodded and relayed the orders enthusiastically. After 4 years of making no headway, Raynor's Raiders were finally going somewhere. They had exposed Mengsk to the media. They had destroyed the zerg on Char. And now they were ready to crush the zerg on Aiur. The two largest zerg strongholds would soon fall. The only other primary zerg hive Matt could think of was Antiga Prime. The zerg had reappeared there in huge numbers after the purge of the Protoss. Matt drew his thoughts from that godforsaken planet. All his attention needed to be focused on Aiur.

OOO

The two ghosts had reached a zerg outpost. The thick creep grew beneath their feet and the putrid smell of the zerg filled their nostrils. Nova slipped on her mask and gazed at the opposition.

"I can snipe that Overseer," informed Nova. "That might open up a small corridor through the outpost. If we're lucky, we can sneak between the Spore Crawlers without them even noticing."

Kerrigan nodded. Nova steadied her arm, and fired her rifle. The shot went right through the Overseer. It squealed in pain before falling to the ground on top of several broodlings. Wordlessly, the pair dashed forward, praying that they would not be detected. Around them, zerg minions roared and scurried in confusion. The ghosts were forced to dodge the scrambling zerg. Nova dived away from the large Ultralisk nearby. In the process, the blonde psychic strayed off the corridor of safety.

A spore crawler felt her presence. The zerg forces were in a bewildered state and they took no notice of the presence. But an Infestor slug exploded from the earth. It alone was paying attention. It launched a spray of green fluid at the invisible duo. Kerrigan knew all too well what it was and she ran for her life away from it. A human cry stopped her sprint. Turning her head, she saw Nova, struggling to continue running. Nova's lower body had been ensnared by the Infestor's Fungal growth. The luminescent green marking revealed Nova to the rest of the zerg minions who had finally recognized the threat.

Kerrigan turned about and sprinted back towards her fellow ghost. Picking her up by the arm, Nova cried painfully.

"It's burning!" cried Nova. "Leave me! It's my own fault!"

Sarah slowly began hauling the blonde away. Behind her, a sizeable swarm of zerglings were charging. Lifting one hand, Kerrigan casted a large psionic storm around the area. Many zerg creatures sizzled and slowed in pain. Kerrigan's legs were now burning as she struggled to make it to a gap between the mountains. If they could make it there, they'd be alright.

Even with the psionic storm, more minions appeared from the ground. Several Ultralisks and a Queen bore down on the pair. They were now within several feet of the gap. Kerrigan let out a small sigh of relief. It was cut short as the ghost felt the earth tremble beneath her feet. She knew what was coming. Gauging the distance between them and the gap, Kerrigan concluded they wouldn't make it in time. But Nova could, if she was given the proper velocity. Kerrigan threw Nova away.

The blonde gave a cry of protest. "What are you doing?"

"Find Zeratul!" shouted Kerrigan over the zerg.

Before Nova could pull Kerrigan within the gap with her, a Nhydus worm erupted from the ground, effectively separating the pair and blocking the gap. Nova could hear the zerg inside the Nhydus worm. If she tried to help Kerrigan, she'd die in the process. Regretfully, Nova backed away from the gap and started painfully putting as much distance between herself and the worm. She didn't want to think of Kerrigan, trapped on the other side of the worm, with a pair of Ultralisks and a Queen longing for her blood. Nova cringed partly from her wounds but also from the realization that she had left Kerrigan for dead.

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**Author's Note: I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter but it'll have to do for now. Sorry for the wait, but I was getting burnt out. The best thing about writing Starcraft Fanfiction is that all you need to do is play that awesome game to rejuvenate inspiration. Please continue to review. Chapter 11 is incoming...tomorrow: August 28th**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: As promised here is the next chapter.

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"Commander, this is Nova," whispered the ghost.

Even within the relative safety of a dark cave, Nova dared not raise her voice. She touched her legs gingerly as she waited for a response. The fungal growth had disappeared, but her legs were still damaged by its burning touch. She would be moving slower now with her injury.

"What's the situation, Nova," asked Raynor.

"Kerrigan's gone," said Nova, with difficulty. "She sacrificed herself so I could complete the mission."

The radio was silent. "She's alive."

"I know you want to believe that, but the last time I saw her, she had a couple Ultras and a Queen bearing down on her," continued Nova. "I'm injured. I can still finish the mission but it'll take longer."

"I can't explain it Nova," said the Commander. "But I know she's still alive and kicking. How did this happen anyways? I thought you had the route planned out?"

Nova gritted her teeth angrily. "A lot changed. We would have been able to slip by the zerg outpost, but they moved a second spore crawler there. It was right outside the observer's line of sight. If we had known that, we'd have picked a different route."

"How bad are you hurt?" asked Raynor.

"Jimmy, aren't you hearing me?" asked Nova exasperatingly. "Kerrigan's dead!"

"Don't say that," snapped Raynor. "I know she's still alive. You just focus on finishing your mission. I'll get Kerrigan back."

The radio chatter ended. Nova pondered Jim's unabashed optimism for Kerrigan's safety. But if anyone could have survived those zerg creatures, it would be her. Feeling ready, Nova stood up slowly, and restarted her long trek to find Zeratul.

OOO

Raynor ran to the Observatory. He didn't want to distract Nova so he remained resolved over the radio. But the commander was worried beyond belief. Finally reaching the screens, he scanned for any Observers in Kerrigan's sector. They had all been systematically detected and removed by multiple Spore Crawlers. The zerg were getting smarter. Pounding the table frustratingly, Raynor tried Kerrigan's radio. No response. But Jim was determined. He wouldn't lose Sarah a second time.

OOO

Zeratul fell back in agony. His attack had failed. He had been detected. The Protoss warrior's leg had been burned by white hot energy and his warp blade had been deflected, driving the weapon into his own arm. Shaking off the pain, Zeratul finally realized what to do. He limped away as quickly as he could until he stood in a clearing. Kneeling slightly because of his injuries, he saw the cavernous pit where the dead Overmind had rested in. A sly laugh was heard. A lone figure stood next to an uncut tendril of the dead creature.

"Now do you appreciate their magnificence, Zeratul?" asked the figure. "I should thank you for destroying my facilities on that dark moon. Your actions forced me to start my work over again. And now I have reached the pinnacle of this hybridization. Don't play dumb, Zeratul. You know who I am."

"I had long since suspected it," growled the warrior. "So you are the mastermind behind all of this, Duran."

The shady character emerged and he gave a hearty laugh.

"Far from it, young Zeratul," he chuckled. "I thought you were on to me. I thought you had finally figured it out, but it seems you are just as blind as before. I am merely a servant of the true architect."

"What is your purpose?" demanded Zeratul. "Why have you come to Aiur?"

"We can't allow you to wipe out _all_ the zerg," said Duran. "You are both needed for what is to come."

"And what is to come?" asked Zeratul carefully.

"Oblivion for all!" howled the creature behind Zeratul.

Zeratul leaped and avoided the attack. He observed his powerful opponent. Zeratul had faced many hybrids before but this hybrid was colossal in strength compared to the others. His warp blade was ignited brightly, though Zeratul knew any attack would only harm himself.

"These monsters you've created are an insult to all life!" growled Zeratul.

"Well look closely, my friend," chuckled Duran. "You know both these monsters."

"Speak clearly!" demanded the warrior.

"I have created the strongest hybrid yet," said Duran. "I came to Aiur. I took the lingering spirit of the Overmind and combined it with the fleeting essence of your beloved Executor. Their hybridization has formed the most powerful creature to bless Aiur."

Zeratul could not contain his anger. "You speak of blessings? You have defiled the sacredness of the Protoss! I don't know what you are, but know this, you will pay for this treachery. You merged the spirit of our sworn enemy with that of Tassadar's!"

"What can you possibly do?" asked Duran humorously. "I toyed with you for 5 days, testing your strength. I was told that next to the Queen of Blades, you were the strongest being in this Sector. You severely disappointed me, Zeratul."

"I am not finished yet," said the Protoss. "Through those 5 days I have come to the realization. I cannot fight the monster. I must instead fight its master."

Zeratul vanished. Reappearing behind Duran, he lunged forward with his weapon. His arm was stopped by the fast reflexes of Samir Duran. Each struggled to win. Zeratul was confused. The Protoss were physically superior, yet Duran's strength was unbelievable. Despite his appearance, Zeratul concluded this being could not be terran. The millennia old being began pushing Zeratul's arm back.

"Still you cling to hope," Duran laughed. "You must embrace the inevitable. Your actions are all futile. This plan has been set in motion long before your ancestor's ancetor's were born. Resistance is foolish."

"Perhaps it is. Perhaps I cannot stop the coming doom. Perhaps I cannot stop what has been foretold for generations. But if nothing else, I _will_ stop you!"

Zeratul finally used a technique he had learnt from Tassadar. He was not the ideal distance from his opponent, but nonetheless, Zeratul was desperate. A blue lightning crackled around the two opponents. They both winced as the pain seared through their bodies. Duran finally gave way. His arm relaxed briefly. Zeratul channelled his strength into his attacking arm and plunged his warp blade deep within Duran's chest. The mysterious man gasped in pain and surprise.

"You have mastered the powers of the Void and the Khala," remarked the dying man. "I was wrong about your, Zeratul. You are one of the most powerful beings in the Sector. You are a strong adversary, but not nearly strong enough. You have defeated me here, but even you cannot stop what's coming. My master's strength makes mine look miniscule. He can make stars disappear by simply thinking it. He creates planets with a wave of his hand. And now thanks to my efforts, he commands the most powerful army in the Sector. The galaxy will burn. The prophecy shall be complete. And purity will be realized."

Duran grinned as the blood trickled from his mouth. Zeratul lifted himself off the dying figure.

"The prophecy is uncertain. There is always hope," repeated Zeratul. "You believed it impossible yet I have beaten you today. That which was impossible is now possible. We _will_ triumph over what is to come."

Duran laughed loudly. "You don't even know what you're up against, yet you cling to unwavering hope. Very well then. I wish I could be there when your hope shatters, but alas, my time is done. My work is complete. My existence has been validated."

Zeratul watched the enigmatic man die. Zeratul collapsed as well. His muscles ached from 5 days of nonstop pursuit, injuries, and the psionic storm he was forced to unleash on himself. He was so weak. If a mere zergling were to appear, he would fall. He caught glance of the hybrid. When Duran died it had stayed in a comatose like trance. Now it approached Zeratul. The Protoss knew he could not fight it. The exchange between the two of them was not what Zeratul had expected."

"En taro Adun," spoke a familiar voice. "We meet again."

OOO

The Ultralisk pair screamed and bashed against the psionic barrier. Soon they would break through. The cunning Queen sat back, preparing for that moment to strike. Kerrigan felt her barrier weaken. Soon she would be overrun. Mustering every ounce of strength she could, she increased the psionic output. The barrier blasted forward and tossed the gigantic Ultralisks off their feet. The Queen, momentarily shocked, decided to capitalize on the opportunity. It swung its two blades at Kerrigan. The ghost was barely able to dodge. Sarah dived underneath the Queen. She raised her rifle and put several rounds into the underbelly of the Queen. The monster shrieked and backed up, wounded.

Another item made its way to the surface of the earth. Kerrigan spun around, expecting another unburrowed zerg, but she saw a line of dark spikes racing towards her. Sarah sidestepped, but the spike still grazed her side, leaving a deep cut. The Queen however, did not see the attack. It was pierced multiple times by the spikes from beneath the ground. The impaled form of the Queen raised a blade for a final attack, but Kerrigan acted quick and fired.

Breathing heavily, Kerrigan started running. She didn't know where she was going. Her radio had been destroyed, her side was bleeding, and the only thing she could think of was getting away from that burrowed Lurker. She ran, and kept running, until after several hours, she no longer recognized where she was. Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar.

Kerrigan was alone. She desperately looked for something, anything. All she saw was darkness. Fumbling to put her mask on, she prayed that there was someone nearby. She thought back to Tarsonis. She had been stranded in the remnants of downtown Tarsonis city. She had been separated from the Magistrate's forces when they were defending the financial district. Shaking off the thought of sleep, Kerrigan proceeded to walk without direction. Her leg hit a metal round object. Kneeling to investigate, Sarah realized it was a marine helmet. A gun was placed behind her head.

"Name and rank!" demanded the trembling voice. "Tell me now or I shoot."

"I'm part of the Black Ops," responded Kerrigan calmly. "Lower your weapon, soldier. We're on the same side."

"Name and rank!" repeated the man behind the gun.

Sarah sighed. She turned around despite the man's protests. The marine threatening her was a young man, barely over 20. He was trembling from head to toe.

"Sarah Kerrigan," she stated.

"Oh shit," the marine moved back. "S-sorry miss, I-I didn't know."

Kerrigan cut short the marine's blabbering attempts for forgiveness.

"What happened here?" she asked.

"I was part of the scouting party in General Warfield's detachment," said the marine. "We were ambushed. I'm the only one left. I've been here for several days now. I don't know what to do."

Sarah shook her head in ridicule. "Lucky for you, I know exactly what to do. We're going to get up and haul ass back to General Warfield's position."

"What about the zerg?" asked the scared soldier. "Did you see what they did to us scouts? We'll be torn apart."

"Well it's better than sitting here till we starve," concluded Kerrigan. "If you want to stay here, be my guest."

"Alright, I'm coming," said the marine hastily. "But I need a shot first. You got any stims?"

Sarah shook her head. "Well I got a few left," continued the soldier. He took out a large syringe and put it in his neck. He sighed as the endorphins flooded his system.

"Why do you use those," asked Kerrigan disgustingly. "They have real ugly side effects you know."

"Maybe, but these are the only reason I'm still sane. Come on. General Warfield is back this way."

The ghost and marine began their hike out of the wilderness. A couple hours into their march Kerrigan spotted a threat.

"Get down!" she cried.

She dove for cover as a creature within the darkness launched mauve coloured projectiles. One hit the tree behind Sarah. She watched as creep began to seep from the object and it quickly engulfed the whole tree, killing it. The marine joined her in cover.

"I think that's a Queen," he said. "Oh shit, what the hell do we do? We got torn apart by a pair of roaches. That Queen will kill us!"

"Calm down!" ordered the ghost. "We'll make a break for it. I'll cover you. Just stay away from those creep tumours and we'll be fine."

The pair charged out of cover firing their weapons. Thanks to the adrenaline boost, the marine charged ahead of Kerrigan. His legs were a blur as he ran at high speeds. Their shots went wide, but it forced the Queen to back off. She made one last ditch attempt and fired off another salvo of creep tumours. Kerrigan ducked and avoided the projectiles. They had crossed a river. Kerrigan and the marine were soaking wet, and exhausted.

"We'll be safe for now," informed Kerrigan. "Zerg can't swim."

"You sure about that?" asked the man. "What if they've got some Lockness Monster shit waiting for us?"

The marine gave himself another shot from the Stimpack. His breathing slowed.

"You should take it," the marine told Sarah. "These drugs will save your life."

"Far from it," sighed the experienced soldier. "They'll be the death of you some day. All those narcotics are putting you on edge. You need a clear head and solid focus to get through this. I can't work with a high marine."

"You stay the composed one," said the marine. "I'll do what I've done for years. It might not be healthy, but I've lived through all 5 swarm attacks with General Warfield using stims. This won't be any different."

"Whatever. Once your drugs run out, you're in for a long detox."

OOO

Days had passed. The marine was still insistent that he knew where he was going, but Kerrigan's faith began to waver. Progress was slow. Sarah's injuries weren't serious but were enough to have to rest every once in a while. The marine on the other hand had been drugging himself at an alarming rate. He had two stims in a single hour. Sarah noticed he was slowing. She couldn't understand why the drugs were giving him reverse effects. Instead of lightning quick reflexes, the marine's run had been reduced to a sluggish crawl.

"Are you okay?" asked Kerrigan, concerned.

"Don't worry about me," he wheezed. "I'm just acclimating to the...gravity."

Kerrigan had heard many poor excuses. This was by far the worse.

"Are you injured?" questioned Sarah.

"I said don't worry about it," repeated the soldier. "Now I'm ready to move again. Help me up."

He raised a hand to be pulled up. Kerrigan grabbed it. She began pulling him to his feet. Suddenly she felt a cold and familiar feeling. She let go of his hand and he toppled back to the ground.

"What the hell?" demanded the marine.

But Kerrigan's eyes weren't fixed on the marine's mouth. Rather, she was staring at a small purple growth on the bottom of his boot.

OOO

"Tassadar!" exclaimed Zeratul.

"I must be quick. My time is short," said the spirit. "You freed me from the control of that being. For that I am grateful. You are a blessing to our race, Zeratul. But I digress. I have had a vision, Zeratul. Unlike that of the Overmind, my vision was one of triumph, one of success. Victory is possible. I have seen it. Now you must see it too."

OOO

Zeratul pondered what he had seen.

"The terran Raynor's actions have altered the future," spoke Tassadar. "The coming doom can be avoided. We can win, but to do so, hard decisions will have to be made. Costly sacrifices will ensue and no matter what, you must maintain hope. Our fight for survival extinguishes when our hope does. Do not let our brethren succumb to the despair which tries to supplant itself in the minds of all."

"Tassadar, you were once a formidable warrior, one who defeated the Overmind itself," started Zeratul.

"Ha!" laughed the shining light. "Do not sell yourself short, brother. You did the same. I know what you ask of me, yet I fear I cannot."

"But Tassadar!" plead the injured Protoss. "Your skills would be invaluable to our cause. Surely you, one who has seen much of these horrors, should understand that we need every Protoss we can find."

"I have lingered in limbo for long enough," stated Tassadar. "Powerless to help yet incapable of death, my spirit has been fractured. Had you not rescued me from that wretched creature's ensnarement, my mind would be broken. But however I may be, I cannot stay. I feel the Khala pulling at my spirit, and I am reluctant to stay here as long as I can to converse with you, my friend."

"We need you," pressed Zeratul. "Hear me, Tassadar. The Hierarchy do not show it, but we are desperate. Even if we defeat the zerg on Aiur, an army of Hybrids is not something we can easily hold off against. We need our hero."

Tassadar's bright light had dimmed until it was almost invisible. He spoke quietly in a tired fashion.

"You are as much a hero as I ever was," said the faint voice. "I have seen the future. The Protoss do not need me. Victory can be achieved, but not through a magical return of a fallen hero. Trust in your brethren, have hope and fight with the fury that the Xel'Naga imparted us with. That is what will make you triumphant."

"If you believe it possible, I shall make it so," decided Zeratul, firmly. "My warp blade will fall on a thousand hybrids before I let my spirit be broken by the whips of despair. Where do you go now, old friend?"

"I know not," said the spirit. "My spirit has been kept in a strange state. I am neither with the living, nor am I truly dead. But this stage of my life is over. I proceed into the unknown. Good bye at last, my old friend. Perhaps we shall meet again, Great Zeratul, through the Khala or the Void. True freedom awaits me. I will delay it no longer. Have faith, be strong, and victory will come to you."

OOO

"For obvious reasons, our arrangement will have to me confidential," spoke Arcturus. "I'm sure you understand."

"You have forces of your own. Why not use them?"

"My forces are undertaking a...covert mission. Lots of firepower will be needed. The loss of defensive forces will leave the Dominion open to attack," explained the emperor. "I need you and your men to supplement the defensive hole while my standard forces complete the task."

"I'm surprised," the figure laughed. The person's face was shrowded in darkness. Only a small red eye was visible. "I've caused you a lot of trouble recently. What makes you think I'll work for you?"

"You mercenaries are all the same," replied Mengsk. "You're governed not by morals or principles, but by money. I'll happily supply it in numerous quantities. I hear you have taken a liking to mineral payments. An upfront payment of 2 million should suffice, don't you think?"

"That's a hard offer to refuse, Emperor. Very well, my forces are yours."

"It's been a pleasure, Miss Han."

"_Mrs._Han."

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**Author's note: Alright, I hope that tied up the loose ends brought up about Tassadar. I never anticipated so many people would demand justification for the return of Fenix. I mostly thought they`d be happy that he was re-introduce to the story. But if you guys really want a reason for his return, I`ll see about conjuring up a plausible explanation. Next Chapter is nearly done. It mainly focuses on Kerrigan. Please tell me what you think of this chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Not many franchises span across multiple platforms of entertainment. The only other series I can think of is Halo and Mass Effect. Now Starcraft has been, at its core, a game. There are other sources of information such as books and comics, but it originates from the 12 year old video game we all love. The problem with such a vast array of Starcraft lore is that it makes it difficult for the average person to absorb all the information when it is spread across multiple mediums. The game is the primary source of the franchise therefore, by default, it is the primary source of the plot. I write for the lowest common denominator. Readers shouldn't have to read all those other comics and books to understand this story. All of what I write can be understood by those who simply play the games. That is why I explained Nova's character differently. Those who haven't read the book would be puzzled by the unexplained character. I don't expect everyone to read the books or the comics. That is why I write fanfiction for the GAME. As long as you readers keep this in mind, I think you should enjoy this chapter, and this story as a whole, just fine.

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"Oh shit, shit shit!" cried the marine, trembling. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a creep tumour," said Kerrigan softly. "It must have caught onto you when we were running from that Queen."

"Okay," the marine calmed. "I'll just yank it off."

The marine quickly exited from his combat suit and grabbed the sol of his boot. It seems the creep had penetrated his armour and reached his flesh. The creep tumour was pulsating. The soldier grabbed it and pulled hard. The growth didn't budge. He tried again to no avail. Then he took out his pistol and fired. Bits of the creep tumour fell off, but the bigger whole of it remained. Kerrigan watched the scene sorrowfully.

"What do I do?" asked the marine. "How do I get this thing off me?"

Sarah stayed silent. She knew the answer.

"Maybe, maybe I'll have to...to take off my foot," the marine muttered to himself.

"No," said Kerrigan, finally. "Look at your leg. The creep has already made it there."

"Jesus!" yelped the marine. "No, this isn't happening. I'm not gonna go like this. Tell me what to do!" his scream echoed around them. "You were like this once, right? What do I do? Tell me what to do! Please! Help me!"

"There's only one thing _to _do," whispered Sarah.

She saw the creep as it rose past the marine's ribcage. Kneeling down, she picked up the marine's pistol and handed it to him. Horrified, the marine backed away.

"No!" he yelled. "I didn't come this far just to turn into some damn zergling. I survived 5 attacks on the swarm. I ain't gonna die. No way in hell!"

"I'm sorry," spoke Sarah softly. "This is the only way. Maybe if Doctor Hanson were here things could be different. Maybe you could have been saved, but we have to make do with what we have. And what we have is a handgun with a bullet. I'm so sorry."

Sarah Kerrigan internally pleaded that the marine would choose correctly.

"I...I don't want to die," whispered the young man.

"You'll wish you had," replied Sarah. Her heart pained as she watched the young man contemplate his own death. Her eyes watered. "Trust me, I've been there. You'll become nothing more than a slave to the will of the zerg. You'll watch yourself to terrible things while you helplessly pound at the prison gates of your own mind. And all the while, you'll torture yourself because you know you could have stood up to the fear. You'll be tormented that you weren't brave enough to pull the trigger."

"Maybe...maybe I can fight if off," protested the marine desperately. "Maybe I'll escape from it."

Sarah shook her head miserably. It was agonizing to see such a young man facing what she had once faced. She gripped her rifle tightly, praying she wouldn't have to use it. She placed her hopes in this marine. He could do what she wasn't able to. He could muster the courage she could never find. And he could make the hard decision that Sarah wished she had. Her faith in humanity was with this lone marine. Sarah had to believe that terrans were more than cowards, spineless creatures ever fearful. There had to be more good in the terran race than Jim Raynor. Somewhere inside that marine, she prayed there was a voice, a conscience urging him down the correct path. She had suffered much for humanity. She had to know it was worth it. Were terrans the stubborn righteous people she remembered?Or had she been fooled all along? Underneath all those layers of uprightness, was there a coward hiding in every terran?

"Don't become what I became," pleaded Kerrigan. "I was scared like you, terrified of death and what comes after, if anything. I couldn't pull the trigger. I became the servant of one of the most terrible entities in this galaxy. You don't want to live like that. Death is bliss compared to what you'll become.. Please believe me, I know what it's like. I'm a coward but you don't have to be. You can do it. You can honour humanity by doing the right thing, not insulting it like I did. You can pull the trigger."

The marine didn't speak. He gritted his teeth. He felt the rough texture of the creep as it had reached his face. It had enveloped half his face. A tear fell down his human side of his face. He trembled from head to toe. Already, his body felt unnatural. It took considerable effort to move his limbs, though for now, he stood still. Sarah could no longer wait. She raised her rifle to her cheek and took aim.

"Don't make me do this!" begged the red haired woman. "I don't ever want to take a human life again, but I will if I have to. You're a good man. Don't make an indecent decision. Don't make me shoot."

The marine closed his eyes. The creep had nearly enveloped him completely. He took a shaky breath and slowly raised his handgun to his head.

"So this is bravery, huh," smiled the marine.

"Unadulterated, untainted bravery," reaffirmed Kerrigan.

The marine closed his eyes and chose.

Sarah Kerrigan felt a loss unlike any other. She had only known the man for a few days. Not even a name was given, but Sarah was heartbroken as she saw the marine do what she told him to. His dead body sunk to the floor, next to her feet. She had finally reaffirmed her faith. Humanity wasn't solely compromised of the selfish despicable. The Arcturus Mengsks of the world were many, but now Kerrigan knew there were others. There were some who fought for everything they held dear, in the face of death or worse. There were some who made the ultimate sacrifice and selfless decisions for the benefit of all. Like this marine, there were those who could stand up bravely in the face of death and submit to the unknown with unprecedented belief that they were doing the right thing.

The creep had already begun to recede from the body. It could find no use in a corpse. Sarah witnessed the death of the bravest man she had ever known. She squeezed her hands into fists. Why was it that the best were forced to suffer most? When did the scum get what they deserved? It should have been Mengsk lying there defiled by the zerg but instead a brave young man was in his stead.

"I promise you something," said Kerrigan to the corpse. "You were my hero. You showed me the most courageous act one can do. You willingly took your own life. You chose to die a hero rather than live as a coward. I promise you, I won't ever be a coward again. You sacrificed your life. If I am ever in this situation, I'll know what to do. I'll think of you, the most heroic figure I ever knew. And I'll pull the trigger, just like you did. Maybe then, my hypocrisy will end. Maybe then, I can pull myself out of cowardice."

Then Sarah found herself alone again. She was in the exact position she was in a few days ago. Stranded, tired and wounded, the ghost contemplated her options. Short of breath and anxious of her ever returning isolation, she paced around several times. Sarah felt cursed. She'd not been able to make the hard choice. Even if she was given another chance, she knew Jim or Zeratul would stop her. Had her existence really been foretold in ancient prophetic fragments scoured across a dark and distant Xel'Naga cave? Was it written in stone? Questions of immense proportions plagued the tired ghost's mind. It had become very humid in the jungle. Sarah used her training to try and calm herself down. She didn't want to be that person. She wanted to be a normal soldier with little psionic potential. Kerrigan wanted to worry about regular things, her survival, her sanity, her social life. But she couldn't. Thanks to the governing power of the universe, she instead was forced to think of grandiose cause and effects. She held the key to avoiding the apocalypse. She could douse the coming fire. And destiny had seen it fit to choose Sarah Kerrigan. She _was_ cursed. She was cursed to survive while she saw others fall.

"I could have detected it sooner," whispered Kerrigan, bitterly. "If I had been paying attention, I could have stopped this."

Guilt and regret flooded Kerrigan's mind. She had to escape from them. If she was to survive, she had to direct all her attention to getting back to General Warfield. But the ghost, with all her psychic training, could not pull her thoughts away from her responsibility towards the previous situation. Her shallow breath continued and her legs weakened. She couldn't survive like this, not in this state.

Sarah bent down and grabbed the marine's dogtags. She put them over her own neck. As long as she was alive, she'd keep this totem as a reminder of the marine's courage. Her eyes then spotted something else as she put on the dogtags. The large needle beside the marine's neck now looked all too enticing to Sarah. It only had one injection left, yet that was all she needed. Sarah promised herself this was the only time she'd do it. Slowly, Kerrigan pried the stimpack from the marine's suit. She placed it on her neck and relieved herself of her anxiety. Her neck burned. Her insides churned uncomfortably, but her mind had found a momentary state of tranquility that she needed. Tossing the empty needle away, she stood up, resolved and continued to walk.

She tried to find a landmark of some sort, but the jungle was thick. The flora was identical and there was no way for Sarah to determine if she was making any progress at all. She stumbled and tripped over the many roots of the trees. She wouldn't break down. She was lost for sure. And she was hurt. But she had faced worse. Stubbornly, Kerrigan blindly continued.

Passing a nearby tree, she felt something. She looked up, squinting. A small waver in the air gave her a hint. Sarah channelled her psionic powers and detected a small object lodged in the tip of the tree. It realized it had been detected so it slowly descended until it was face to face with Kerrigan. Its eye processed Sarah's image.

Sarah sighed. "Of all the Protoss units, I find an observer. Useless in combat, unable to provide directions, this is just my luck."

The observer moved back, as if hurt. Its eye spun around furiously and it smashed into Kerrigan's arm. The ghost jerked back, shocked of this robot's feisty attitude. Kerrigan had wasted enough time here. She turned away and started moving again. Then she stopped and turned around. The observer was still close to her. Moving away even farther, she twirled around to see that the observer was following her.

"Well I guess it ain't all bad," muttered Kerrigan, taking the observer in her hands. "I guess I could use the company, even robotic company. Maybe you'll even save me from getting skewered by another Lurker."

The observer rotated its body happily in Kerrigan's hands. It flew up and prepared to follow her.

"Alright then, I guess you can come along with me," concluded the ghost. "Come on Obi, let's get a move on."

The newly named observer hummed joyfully and followed the red head.

OOO

"Honourable Raynor!" called a Protoss warrior, running over to the commander. "We have monitored the observers as you requested for the Queen- I mean Sarah Kerrigan. We have found her."

Raynor rushed over to the Observatory. Scanning the various monitors, he found her, beat up, but alive, trotting through the thick foliage of Aiur's immense jungles.

"Can we establish communication?" demanded Raynor, anxious to speak to his dearest person.

"I'm afraid we cannot," said the templar.

"Then at least call back the observer," said Raynor. "Hopefully Kerrigan knows about it now and she'll follow it right to the nearest friendly forces."

"As you wish, commander," spoke the templar. "The Terran General Warfield's battalion is the closest. He is holding at the Heaven Mountain Pass. We shall instruct the observer to return. It shall take several days however. Also, Honourable Raynor, there are zerg forces holding between Terran General Warfield's and Sarah Kerrigan's location."

"Well she's survived so far," said Raynor. "Sarah's a big girl. She can take care of herself."

OOO

Several of Aiur's plants produced seemingly edible fruit at an alarming rate. The starved ghost began nourishing herself so to avoid emaciation. Little Obi had happily obliged to carry Kerrigan's rifle as she tried not to starve. It spun around and spotted an army of zerglings surrounding a lone creature. It hummed loudly and Kerrigan took the hint and activated her cloak as she drew near to see the situation. A lone Bengalaas Predator cat snarled loudly, unfazed by the zerglings circling it. This native Aiur feline let out a loud fierce roar that forced the zerglings to back away slightly. A lone minion dashed at the tiger-like fauna. It raised huge paw and crushed the zergling, breaking through its thick carapace.

Sarah wondered what was happening. The zerg didn't need to feed. Why were they attacking this creataure? The cat took the initiative and dove into the zergling pack. Numbers did nothing for the zerg as the fierce creature systematically took out the zerglings. Another snarl was heard. This one was of a different nature. Kerrigan stiffened as she witnessed two Hydralisks creep by her. Were it not for her invisibility, Kerrigan's carelessness would have surely cost her.

The Bengalaas turned and bravely faced the new threat. The hydralisks struck first with their spines. The sharp objects launched into the tiger, weakening it. Next the worm-like zerg moved forward with their scythe arms. They carefully impaled the Bengalaas so it was still alive. Pinning it to the ground, they waited until a zerg Queen had unborrowed. It placed a creep tumour on the animal and the purplish material began spreading across the feline.

Kerrigan finally realized it. The zerg were going to assimilate the Bengalaas into their ranks. With such a powerful origin, the new strain of zerg would only get even more powerful with enhanced genetic mutations. She was reluctant to act, however. Obi had informed her of more zerg forces nearby. Her rifle would attract unwanted attention and Kerrigan certainly wasn't keen on going up against two Hydras and a Queen using solely her psionic abilities. She was using up all of it simply maintaining the cloak.

Luckily, Kerrigan was not forced to take action. More feral growls caught the attention of the zerg. The rest of the pack of Bengalaas launched themselves from the trees and attacked the now outnumbered zerg. The Queen wisely retreated while the Hydralisks were mared by the ferocious creatures. The swiftness of the pack was beneficial to the wounded one. The creep growth had little time to grow. The apparent leader of the pack dropped its head and took off the tumour with a painful bight into the back. The wounded one howled in pain as the rest of the pack moved in to soothe.

Sarah, satisfied, had seen enough. She disabled her cloak and moved back to her meal. Her mind was content. She had been like that tiger, alone against a dangerous threat. Yet like the creature, she had fought her heart out, knowing that she could not win. And then the pack came in. They saved it. Kerrigan believed she had a pack. She believed even if she could not see them, there were people who would come to her aid in her most dire moment. Her fear of isolation had dissolved. She knew there were those that even now, desperately were trying to get her back. Jim would. Horner would, even if it was for Jim's sake. And Zeratul would for the sake of the universe. She laughed bitterly. Her pack was small. But maybe, in time, it'd grow and expand until it could scare off even the mightiest zerg minions. She would see it so. She would strive to reach the day where people, her people would fight to defend her. Sarah would regain their trust and their loyalty. It would be hard and painful. Kerrigan would face disappointments long before she experienced triumph, but the ghost was stubborn. She would keep at it until she had her own pack ready to defend her.

Obi nudged her slightly, urging her to move on. Sarah smirked at her robotic friend and they continued their journey.

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**Author's Note: I thought it'd be kinda cute to give Kerrigan a friend. Hopefully you guys feel the same way. I'm going to start trying to write chapters like these ones. Tell me if you guys like long uninterrupted scenes like these, or if you like the previous chapters where there were shorter scenes with a lot of stuff happening. Please note that with my semester starting again, updates will slow from one chapter every couple days to one chapter every week or so. Don't worry though. I'm committed to this story. I've already written the ending so there's no way I'm going to leave this story unfinished. Please review and enjoy!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Ya! I got 100 reviews! Hopefully you guys enjoy what I'm doing so here's the next chapter. This should be about what you guys should expect in terms of updates. Unless something big comes up, it'll be mostly 1 chapter a week or so. I should also mention that when I decided to continue this on from chapter 5, I decided that it would be its own story, not simply an epilogue of Wings of Liberty, and not a prologue to Heart of the Swarm. I have my own ending planned and if you expect the brief description of Heart of the Swarm, you'll be confused. Just a friendly hint : ) Anyways enjoy chapter 13!**

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Fenix gazed nostalgically at the broken golden gate. Like much of Aiur, it was damaged and deformed. He stood on the ground that he and his small band of Protoss warriors defended as the last free part of Aiur 4 years ago. Fenix remembered as his templar warriors fought to their end as they facilitated the evacuation of the non-combatant Protoss fleeing to Shakuras. Having experienced so many battles, few stuck out in Fenix's mind. His fall at Antioch and his betrayal at Korhal were ever present in his mind, but also the defence of Aiur was a battle he always came back to. By Protoss standards, Fenix had done more than anyone could have asked for. The last Protoss warriors on Aiur had formed a small army under the command of Praetor Fenix alongside his friend Raynor. They had thwarted the immediate zerg threat and were well on their way to evacuating every Protoss. Despite the disheartening situation, Fenix was at the moment, satisfied that he could have ensured the survival of all the Protoss on Aiur. But it was not to be. At the apex of Protoss defence, another threat had appeared. Fenix's shield flared brightly as his anger began to show. The cursed United Earth Directorate had caused the demise of Aiur's defences.

Fenix had convinced himself several times that he would have been able to fend off the zerg swarm if it hadn't been for those disgraceful Earthlings. The combined forces of the zerg and the UED had proven too much for the small humble army of the Protoss. They had been overwhelmed and Fenix had been forced to flee with the remainder of his forces and their prisoner the Terran Dominion Emperor. Fenix had been forced to destroy the warp gate, stranding the rest of the Protoss.

Fenix remembered the cries of the desperate Protoss refugees over the blazing sound of explosions. They cried out in anger and sadness as they saw the warp gate fail. Fenix had killed 11 billion Protoss that day, nearly three quarters of the Protoss population. He had not been strong enough to hold the gate. He hadn't been strong enough to save them. Fenix thought back to when he revealed to the young templar Selendis how many lives were saved. Though she tried to hide it, the soon to be Executor's face had fallen in disappointment. Fenix had only a handful of Protoss refugees left to show for his efforts. This was where his greatest defeat had taken place. Had he been stronger, like the heroes of the past, perhaps he could have saved more. He often wondered how things would have played out if it were Tassadar had been in charge of the defence.

Fenix knew, back on Aiur, the last survivors were cursing his name, and for good reason. He had condemned them to death, by the brutal fist of the UED or by the horrid maw of the zerg. His defeat on Aiur had been the most costly of the entire Protoss history.

Several carriers and Battlecruisers flew overhead, trying to draw out any hiding zerg. Behind the Praetor, more and more probes were appearing to set up psionic matrixes around the broken Warp Gate. The gigantic armies of Terran and Protoss stood nearby. Small terran workers were repairing the huge Thors. Medics were descending from ships to take care of the wounded and the terran cannons were already in siege mode, setting up an impenetrable perimeter. Other immortals had stood beside the siege tanks while many zealots had begun to slowly interact with their terran counterparts. Perhaps the uneasy rift between the two races could mend. Fenix's respect for the terrans held no bounds. His strong friendship with Raynor had solidified his belief in the terrans. The Praetor was still uneasy about the former Queen of Blades but if Raynor trusted her, Fenix would as well. He owed his friend that.

Fenix then became angry and his shields flared once more. Had they reached out to Raynor sooner, Aiur would already have been retaken. Fenix would have scolded the Hierarchy for not giving more power to Artanis. Voting on everything had taken up much time, time which could have been better spent retaking Aiur. Though Fenix dared not approach those responsible mainly composed of the non-military branch of the Hierarchy. He knew they already had their suspicions of his mysterious return. Artanis was doing all he could to fend off the demands for answers. Fenix was grateful. Under ideal circumstances, the immortal would have liked to tell no one, but the Protoss itched for answers, and Fenix feared they would not like what he had to say.

Thinking back on it himself, Fenix knew it to be wrong, but also right. He remembered when he fell before the Queen of Blades. He felt the tug of his spirit, the dulcet calls of his ancestors, but Fenix was not satisfied. He couldn't part this life. Somewhere inside of him, he knew, he had more to do, more to accomplish, a final part to play. So he resisted and he fought of the Khala. Fenix decided never to think of those moments again. While the Battle for the Aiur Warp Gate held more repercussions, the battle for Fenix's soul was the toughest of his near 400 year life. He had committed the most vile sin a Protoss could, even beyond that of the Dark Templar. He refused the Khala. He had declined it of his soul. Fenix couldn't part this world. He needed to come back and help in any way he could. He did not look forward to the afterlife like most of his brethren. Rather he feared the day it would claim him. Until he saw it before his very eyes, _this_ was his world. And he would fight to the last breath to defend it. His faith was weaker than that of most Protoss. It was a fault always criticized by the Executors overseeing young Fenix's training batch as they hoped to become Templar. However, he was not a nonbeliever. He knew that the Khala was the gateway to another world, yet he was never tempted to walk through its doors. The hard earth beneath his feet had become all he needed, and while others devoted themselves to prayer, Fenix disciplined himself in matters of war.

"En taro Tassadar, my friend!" spoke Artanis, descending from the recently warped in Shield of Aiur. "You are ever a mighty warrior. Executor Selendis has even begun looking to you for inspiration rather than I. Your command of the battlefield is unprecedented to the Protoss."

"Thank you, Hierarch," said Fenix within his robotic shell. "Is it wise to come to the battlefield?"

"My friend," Artanis spoke warmly. "There is no need for titles or ranks. You are my oldest comrade. We fought countless battles on numerous worlds. I feel your spirit is wounded. What troubles you, my friend?"

"The nostalgia is overwhelming," muttered the warrior. "I remember my time defending the warp gate...my failure. I could have saved more, I know it! If I had mustered more forces, made better tactical decisions-"

"Do not do this to yourself," told Artanis, concerned. "My friend, you cannot carry the deaths on Aiur on your shoulders. That burden is too great for one being. The responsibility rests on the zerg and the Earth born, but not on you, Fenix. You and Raynor stayed to valiantly defend the Warp Gate while lesser beings would have fled without a second thought to the evacuees. "

"Had Tassadar been there-"

"He is not," cut off Artanis, firmly. "Turn your thoughts away from the past. You saved billions of Protoss, Fenix. They praise your name. The billions you saved would be billions lost had another commander been defending the Gate. Move your mind to more current matters. The Protoss need you."

"They have you," replied Fenix. "Never would I have thought that young Praetor Artanis would have ascended to the leadership of our species."

Artanis turned away. "Many do not see it so."

"Explain."

"I hear whispers of dissidence and mistrust among our people. They think me too young to lead. My ascension had not happened like the election of the Matriarchs. We simply did not have the time for elections. We had to take immediate action to ensure the continuity of our species. Many templar do not see me as the true leader."

"Then to whom do they look to if not you?" asked Fenix, fiercely.

"Zeratul," said the Hierarch. "Many now know that Matriarch Razagal selected him as her successor with her dying breath. Zeratul however, banished himself in grief and the leadership was vacant. The Executors selected me to lead knowing that the true leader was absent. Our Dark Templar brethren are none too pleased with being under the command of a Khala Templar."

"Zeratul is a strong Protoss indeed," said Fenix. "He is a warrior unmatched by most. But he is not a leader. Zeratul deals with the blade. Only you can deal with directive. We have lived through many battles, young Artanis. Never have I doubted your decisions. And if our brethren see you unworthy, you must simply prove them wrong. Take back our homeworld. Muster the largest force in Protoss history and take an unprecedented offensive to the wretched zerg. Purge them of our homeworld and you will not only earn the loyalty of the Protoss, but your name shall be cited with the Greats."

"Thank you, old friend," said Artanis softly. "Perhaps we may yet live to see a unified Protoss. How fares our other comrades?"

"Young Selendis continues to push farther still. Her forces have recovered Scion fully now, but yet her thirst for Aiur has not yet been sated. Most of her forces have moved away from the Scion capital stronghold. Prelate Urun has been forced to move some of his fleet to the city to complement the warmongering of your student. Praetor Mohandar has returned neither defeated nor victorious. He has managed to prevent the zerg from reasserting total control of the River of Light, but still, he was unable to push forward. In fact, the Terran tanks played a large role in maintaining the lines."

"How goes our Terran allies?" demanded Artanis, eagerly. "I see Terran forces outnumber Protoss here today. How have these forces been rallied?

"Terrans from around the Sector are rallying to our friend," replied the Immortal. "The surplus in troops allowed our success today and now when the warp gate is rebuilt, more Protoss armies will flood Aiur still."

"Any word from Zeratul?" asked the Hierarch.

Fenix shook his robotic body. "Do not fear, Artanis, Zeratul has mastered the powers of the Void beyond the comprehension of all of us. He will survive."

"I shall restore my faith," stated Artanis. "The land which we stand on carries the blood of billions of Protoss. First Char and now soon to be Aiur. Antiga Prime now remains the last unopposed zerg stronghold that we know of. We should have sent another purge on that wretched planet. Our hesitance allowed the zerg to slither up from the charred earth and establish control of the planet. These beasts are worthy foes."

"One step at a time," parted Fenix. "For now, let us think only of the Protoss still on Shakuras and work towards their joining with us here on Aiur."

Hierarch Artanis hesitated before tentatively continuing. "My friend, I must ask you a question. The Hierarchy have been pressing the issue on me ever since your return. I've tried to shield you from the inquiries, but I fear the Hierarchy's patience is beginning to wane. How...how did you return to us? By what means did you conquer death and transcend the very realms of heaven and hell?"

"My...my work was not complete," muttered Fenix. "My soul waited in limbo for 4 years. Many fallen souls of Protoss passed me as they continued to the Khala while I stayed behind neither in your world nor that of our ancestors. I sought a Protoss strong enough to help me return to the world in chaos, but there was none, not for 4 years. Finally, there appeared in the fog of my wandering soul, a high templar, on his way to meet the ancestors. I conversed with him, and he refused. But I had become desperate. I took the initiative and bonded with the high templar named Karass."

Artanis jerked back. "You're an archon! And a product of an unwilling merging at that! You deceived us all within the shell of the Immortal."

"Yes," admitted the Praetor. "I sinned greatly against the beliefs of our people. But to save the Protoss, I would shatter the beliefs again and again."

"We are nothing without what we believe in," argued Artanis. "Were the conclave still here, they would declare this blasphemy and you a heretic."

"Yet they are no longer leading the Protoss, you are," replied Fenix. "And I pray you will not turn down the help you desperately need. I have suffered much by my own hand. I wish not to suffer more by yours."

Artanis sympathized with his warrior companion. They had fought together for nearly 300 years. Artanis would not lose faith in his friend so easily. "Very well Fenix, I shall keep this to myself. But explain to me your demeanour. You neither resemble nor act as an Archon would."

"Things did not go according to plan," said the immortal, reluctantly. "I knew there would be consequences merging 2 souls without a body anchor. And there was. The most powerful mind overwhelmed the other. I...killed High Templar Karass. My mind overwhelmed him and I rested as a single entity."

"These are serious things you speak of," cautioned the Hierarch. "Even the Dark Templar would see it unfit to do what you have done. I understand your reasons, friend, but I fear others will not. Perhaps their mercy will be granted when we defeat the zerg and return to the Khala ourselves."

Artanis had much to think about. He warped back into the Mothership. Fenix was left alone pondering Artanis' last words.

"The warming embrace of the Khala is _your_ future, my friend. But it is no longer mine," he muttered.

Kerrigan gazed at the huge slab of stone in front of her. She found a mountain in the dense jungles. Sarah knew that she could get her bearings if she had proper visibility of the surrounding area. She placed her hands on her hips and carefully analyzed the mountainside, trying to locate a path to the top. Her focus was interrupted by Obi who had been acting strangely as of late. It nudged Kerrigan's side.

"Not now, Obi," whispered Kerrigan, not tearing her gaze from the mountain.

It nudged harder and Kerrigan turned around frustrated. "What's wrong now?"

Obi frantically began moving in a different direction. Confused, Kerrigan had to watch Obi repeat the action several times before she understood what her companion was beckoning her to do. She shook her head.

"You don't even know where you're going!" chastised Kerrigan. "How can we have been walking for 2 days and you just randomly figure out where to go? No, I need to get to higher ground to get a fix of our position. Come on, Obi."

She made for a rocky foothold. Turning around, she saw her observer look at her angrily before turning away and disappearing in the shadows.

"Do what you want," called Kerrigan. "We'll see who's really lost then."

Turning her head again, she didn't see her robotic companion through the thick trees. She waited a few minutes, then it became clear to her that Obi had a mind of his own and was not about to listen to Sarah. She scolded herself and quickly rushed after the stubborn spy.

"Obi, wait up!"

She made her way to a clearing where Obi was waiting for her happily. It motioned to keep going and Kerrigan begrudgingly complied. She hadn't had a clue where she was going. Maybe this little robot could guide her.

"How long?" she asked.

Obi span around twice.

"2 hours? That's not bad. I guess we were closer than we thought. Come on Obi, let's get moving."

Raynor inspected the various men in front of him. He was satisfied that many seemed to be clean, meaning they had not served time. It seems that only the Dominion was so reliant on the penal systems to supply the men to defend the Empire. It seems like defending the Dominion resided as a job only criminals and murderers would take. Raynor, a criminal himself, was still hesitant to accept those behind bars. Sure he had robbed a few trains and whatnot, but the men the Dominion were pulling out of prison were murdering psychopaths on a powder keg just waiting to go. Only the neural re-socialization kept them in check. The men in front of Raynor seemed to be divided. Many were wary of the others. Hands were pressed tightly to their sidearms as they waited for their new commander to issue orders.

"Alright," Jim started. "I don't think I need to introduce myself to you. I'm pretty sure Mengsk has made it clear to all of you. But if you know anything about Mengsk, it's that he can't be trusted and neither can his word. Now I am grateful that your faction governments have lent me you boys, but I'm no fool. I know very well that both of your governments have ulterior motives and I intend to find them out. Every one of you will submit to the mind check of one of my ghosts. I'm gonna find out what you guys were really sent here to do."

"That ain't necessary," spoke up a soldier. "We're here aren't we? Don't bite the hand that feeds you, brother. Just be happy we're here."

Raynor turned to look at the speaker. "I spent a good year fighting you Kel-Morians in the Guild Wars. I think I have the right to be wary of you. And the Umojans are no better. You guys are sneaky sons of bitches, that's for sure. I'm not sure anyone will ever be able to reveal your complex spy network, but you ain't spying on me. I'll make sure of that."

The 400 men looked around nervously.

"We can save ourselves a lot of time here," declared Raynor. "Tell me what the Kel-Morian Combine and the Umojan Protectorate want?"

"We were each handpicked to be a member of this joint task force," spoke another soldier. "A mercenary recruiter named Graven Hill called the Kel-Morian Combine looking for troops. Our government fears the Domion is plotting for total annexation of all remaining independent terran factions in the Korprulu sector. You now possess one of the strongest forces in the sector, one of the few which could stand up to the Dominion. We offer our services, but not for free and not for money. We want your allegiance. If Moria and its colonies are attacked by the Dominion, we want your forces just as we gave you ours."

"Our spies caught word of this," spoke a Umojan soldier. "And we want in too. We've stayed independent for a long time. There ain't no way we're going to give in to the Dominion now."

A ghost materialized out of nothing. "It's genuine," he whispered into Raynor's ear before disappearing once more.

"I can't guarantee reinforcements if one of your colonies are attacked," admitted Raynor. "But after this favour, I can't exactly call you my enemies, can I? I hope your governments realize the implications of this alliance. You'd be allying with the Protoss as well. I know the Umojans welcome it, but I've heard some rumours as of late that there have been a few battles between the Kel-Morians and the Protoss over mining colonies. If you're to join us, you must join the Protoss as well."

Not a voice of opposition was heard. Raynor sighed gratefully. "Alright then, fellas. As of now, Raynor's Raiders are allied with the Kel-Morian Combine, Umojan Protectorate and the Protoss Hierarchy. All of you will report to my second in command, Matt Horner. He will assign you defensive positions and patrol patterns around the city. Get to it, soldiers."

"Just so you know, I'm still not okay with this," Horner objected quietly.

"We'll talk later," responded Raynor. "For now, we need to get the Antioch defences back up. Fenix would kill us if it fell a third time."

The pair moved fast through the jungle. Reinvigorated and relieved to finally have a direction, Kerrigan pressed on despite her legs telling her to stop and take a break. But she was a ghost after all. Her cardio had been pushed to the maximum and she easily overcame the burning sensation in her body and continued on with Obi in tow. She felt that she was making good time. Obi chirped loudly and Kerrigan took the hint. She ducked as broodlings rained around her. She looked up and spotted an ominous Brood Lord flying about. She cursed and looked at her rifle. She had 2 clips left and she reckoned that's how much it would take to remove the threat. Sarah had no other choice. She got back up and precisely fired a steady stream of bullets into the zerg flyer, only stopping to reload. The huge flyer did not go down, but it had had enough. It flew away, near death, though knowing the zerg, it'd be fully recovered in a couple days.

Kerrigan let out a sigh of relief. Obi chirped again, looking directly beneath himself. Kerrigan finally noticed the small fissure cracks appearing beneath the Observer.

"Obi, get out of the way!" said Kerrigan frantically.

She dove and forced the observer out of harm's way. They fell into thick foliage while the ground where they previously stood was uprooted in an instant. Another queen had appeared and it looked deadly as ever. Kerrigan was now without a rifle and now had to rely on her psionic powers, though her reserves were dwindling by the minute. She even had had to disable her cloak a while back because of it.

"We're close right?" demanded Sarah.

The observer nodded diligently.

"Alright, let's just run for it," concluded the ghost.

Taking off with a jolt of speed, the pair dashed away from the roaring Queen. It trampled after them. Even without the nourishment of the creep, the Queen moved surprisingly fast and had caught up to the fleeing pair nearly instantly. Kerrigan let loose a psionic powered inertia blast which forced the queen to topple over. Nevertheless, the zerg recovered and started to make up the ground loss as it chased its prey. Suddenly, Kerrigan no longer heard the trampling steps of her pursuer. Glancing backwards, she saw the Queen rearing up in a strange posture. The ghost immediately recognized that position. It was what the Defilers did before consuming. It seems that the Defilers had passed on a skill to the new Queens before their zerg strain was eliminated following the Brood Wars.

Kerrigan was helpless to stop it. She fell over, now completely exhausted. Her energy was being drained by the Queen. She first felt grateful that the ability had been modified, but quickly began to panic as all her psionic energy was being drained from her body. Of course it was preferable to death, but Kerrigan wasn't in a good position. The Queen was beginning to make her way towards the fallen ghost.

Obi prodded the red head, urging her to keep going, but Kerrigan barely had the strength to stand up. She raised an arm slowly and put one in front of the other. She began crawling away slowly, though the Queen was gaining distance fast. Still, Kerrigan continued to crawl and hope for a miracle.

The miracle came in form of a 180mm Shock Cannon round which smashed into the Queen's body at maximum velocity, immediately reducing the previous threat into a bloody heap. Kerrigan counted her blessings. She rested her head on a rock and tried to scan for her saviour. Unfortunately, due to the Siege Tank's extreme range, she couldn't even spot it. Most likely, it came from over the hills with a spotter nearby. She heard the whine of the twin engines of a Medvac as it soared over the hills and landed near Kerrigan.

"Looks like you need a hand miss," said a Marine, extending his own.

Kerrigan gratefully took it and pulled herself to her feet. With the support of nearby marines, she got onto the Medvac and it took off once more. Kerrigan was so very thankful she had made it back. Peering out of the window, she saw why the siege tank was able to cover so much range. It was perched on a cliff of the mountainside. The hills hid the true beauty of the Heaven Mountain ranges. The pilot gave a salute to the tank below.

The ship narrowly flew through a small corridor in between the mountains. Kerrigan saw marauders everywhere on the cliffs above. Sarah now understood why Warfield had picked this spot to hold up. It was a deathtrap for any wandering zerg. If they made it past the siege tanks, they had to deal with the narrow confines of this trench which housed dozens of trigger-happy marauders. This seemed like a near flawless chokepoint.

Despite the fact that medics had already stitched most of her up and gave her psionic enhancers to supplement her loss, Kerrigan still felt restless, cold and simply not right. She tried to shake off the feeling, but it would not leave her. She was only comforted to see Obi flying next to the Medvac. Sarah tenderly touched her side which had been cut deeply by a Lurker. She peered. The medics seemed to patch her up well enough. Then she spotted something else. And she froze.

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**Author's Note: Okay, I hope that the explanation of Fenix's return will satisfy some sceptics. I went through several attempts at explaining it since I didn't really have a plan to begin with. I never expected so many people to demand an explanation. Nevertheless, I did the best I could and I think I presented a believable (as far as Starcraft goes) explanation for Fenix's return. Also, this won't just be a one time thing. Fenix's return will play at part in the rest of the story**

**Please read and review and tell me if the scene between Fenix and Artanis helped flesh out Fenix more, or if the scene was entirely to **_**alien **_**for you to identify with. Does the lack of a human element take away from the sympathetic attempt? It's really important to me that I nail the characters (zing!) . Once again, thanks for the reviews. Chapter 14 is incoming sometime next week.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: This is a short one, but I'm hoping it'll give off a larger scale of what is going on beyond Aiur. Please enjoy!**

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Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, anxiously glancing to the marines beside her, hoping they did not see what she had. Her hands trembled as the Medvac touched down at General Warfield's forward base. She allowed the marines to all exit before she did. Concealing it as much she could, she tried to find the nearest transport back to Antioch. But there were many people. If Kerrigan was to slip by, she had to move quickly. She spotted a Hellion. If she could commandeer that, she could make great time and get back to Antioch before anyone ever noticed her.

"Kerrigan!" called a female voice.

Kerrigan turned around and saw Nova slowly walking towards her. Impatient and nervous, Kerrigan cursed as she was forced to wait for the slow moving blonde.

"So you got out alright," stated the ghost. "Guess Jimmy was right."

"Yeah," replied Kerrigan, distractedly.

"Come on," urged Nova, "we gotta brief General Warfield."

Sarah didn't budge. Nova had become frustrated at Kerrigan's strange behaviour. She forcefully grabbed the ghost's hand and jerked her forward. Kerrigan yanked her arm back with more force than she originally intended. She lost her footing as she tripped over an empty ammunition casing. She painfully hit the ground on her back; her legs flew up in the process. Nova backed away slightly. General Warfield and several other marines had been drawn to the semi- brawl and they all saw what Kerrigan tried to conceal.

A small pulsating creep tumour had latched itself onto Kerrigan's knee. Sarah couldn't figure out how this had happened. That last queen must have launched a creep tumour before it was struck by the siege tank. Maybe she had been too exhausted from the Consume that she hadn't noticed till this moment. She looked up. Marines all around her had formed a circle around her. General Warfield pointed his rifle at Kerrigan.

"General, what are you doing?" demanded Nova.

"Look at it yourself!" barked Warfield. "She's got zerg all over her. There ain't no way I'm gonna let the Queen of Blades return. We've all suffered too much."

"Think about what you're doing!" yelled Nova. "You heard the Protoss. She's the key to stopping this madness!"

"I don't believe in that alien bullshit divination!" lashed out the general. "All I know is that if we don't do something now, we're gonna pay for it later."

His safety was flicked off and his finger rested dangerously close to the trigger.

"Don't do it," warned Nova. "If you pull that trigger, you're pulling the trigger on all of us"

The laser sight flickered on. Nova took action. She took her rifle and aimed it forcefully at the General's head. Marines all around were startled by the action and confused whether to help their commander, or if this ghost had a point.

"Stand down, General!" ordered Nova.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, girl?" growled Warfield. "Have you forgotten? You're pointing your weapon at your commanding officer!"

"Right now, I don't care. All I see is an injured woman being bullied by a man who's had one too many stims today. I'm not gonna let you kill her," she said, dangerously. "Lower your weapon...now!"

The man begrudgingly threw down his gun. He looked at his subordinate marines. They didn't know what to think. Warfield marched back into his command center without a word. Nova let out a sigh of relief.

Kerrigan unconsciously touched the dog tags around her neck. She spotted the discarded rifle on the ground. Leaping to her feet, she dashed for the weapon. Nova saw this.

"No!" she cried.

Launching herself on the red head, Nova kicked away the weapon and pinned the tired Kerrigan to the ground. Sarah struggled, but couldn't free herself. She looked at the blonde with desperate eyes.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "She can't come back! She can't! I won't let her! I promised myself that!"

"She won't" replied Nova. "Don't worry, we can handle this."

"No you can't," panted Kerrigan. "You can't stop it with medical miracles. We need a bullet."

Kerrigan's breath became short and her lungs burned for more oxygen.

"You just need to calm down, Sarah," assured Nova. "We're only a couple miles from Antioch. We can fly Doctor Hanson out here in an instant."

"I need a stim," gasped Sarah.

Nova was surprised and didn't respond.

"I said I need a god damn shot!" Sarah screamed.

Nova shook her head. A stimpack injection was the last thing Sarah needed. She quickly ran over to the medical bay and retrieved a syringe. But inside it was not, adrenaline surging endorphins but a heavy anaesthetic. She put it in Kerrigan's arm. The ghost's breath slowed and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Nova yelled to a random marine to get Doctor Hanson groundside immediately. Then she turned her attention back to the creep tumour. It had grown surprisingly fast, already engulfing Kerrigan's leg. Nova reckoned Kerrigan's psionic ability hindered the creep's progress, even unconsciously. Perhaps Nova could do the same. Regardless, Nova knew she had to do something and save Sarah just as she saved her.

OOO

"And in other news, Emperor Mengsk has brought to rest the issue regarding the missing General Warfield. It appears that General Warfield died in combat several days ago against the zerg on the planet of Mar Sara. General Warfield, as many of you know, was a highly decorated military officer serving in the Dominion Armed Forces. As mostly remembered from his heroic actions on Torus, the General, in light of the Second Great War, came out of retirement and resumed command of the Dominion Armed Forces. His battles took him to Mar Sara to eradicate the remaining zerg threat, where the Hero of Torus ultimately met his end. Our hearts go out to General Warfield's friends, family and battalion. He will be remembered as a defender of the Terran Dominion."

Kate Lockwell, less than pleased with her subordinate reporter's story, which took the Emperor's word as fact, tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk. Things had not quite been the same ever since she had met Raynor. She gazed at the monitor which showed over a minute until she was back on the air. She decided she had enough time. Lockwell exited the room and moved to the balcony, where she saw the rest of Augustgrad. There was still chaos in the streets as struggling business owners shouted violently in protest of the Dominion, which had failed to rebuild much of the damage from the rogue Odin incident.

Kate Lockwell took in Augustgrad in all its artificial silver glory. This city had quite the history. It was the origin of the first Rebellion of the Terran Confederacy. The Emperor's father, Angus Mengsk had led the charge, only to have his efforts fail as several Ghosts were dispatched and assassinated him. Of course then, he was replaced by his son, who in his youthful demeanour filled with thoughts of vengeance, condemned the planet. As the Emperor took on the work of his father to continue the Rebellion, the old Confederacy had had enough. They razed Augustgrad and the rest of Korhal to the ground with nuclear warheads. The cities were levelled, rivers dried and fields of green turned into barren desserts filled with only the likes of cockroaches and human dust.

Kate then thought of the health of most of Korhal's citizens. She hadn't a clue why Emperor Mengsk had insisted on establishing the throne on this nuclear waste filled planet. She guessed it must have been symbolic for Arcturus to establish his rule on the planet which his father fell, but still, the people were suffering for it. Kate was already working on another story. The after effects from all those years ago continued to linger and poisoned much of the population. Radiation sickness was becoming alarmingly common. Nearly 15% of Korhal's population showed a rapid decline in health. While the Emperor had promised that the health concerns would be dealt with, little to nothing had been done or improved.

The reporter didn't know why the Emperor simply hadn't moved the throne world to Tarsonis. Sure, New Gettysburg was lost, but the capital city, Tarsonis maintained much of its infrastructure even after the attack by the Sons of Korhal, the Protoss and the zerg. Instead, Arcturus had committed trillions of dollars to rebuild Augustgrad from scratch while a perfectly reasonable and cheaper alternative was right before him. Kate Lockwell smirked. Perhaps Mengsk's guilty conscience was preventing the man from ruling on the world where billions laid dead because of him. Or maybe it was to prevent the resurfacing of a condemning piece of information, such as the one Raynor's Raiders had recovered.

And then came the United Earth Directorate. Kate remembered the shock of all Terrans when their precursors and originators appeared before them with only goals of control and violence. Perhaps Terrans and the Earthborn had more in common, after all. They sacked Augustgrad while the Emperor fled and abandoned his throne world. However, UED occupation was not a walk in the park. In the short time they were there, they were instilling their beliefs to all of Augustgrad. They convinced people that the sick and the weak had to be eradicated to preserve purity and realize the divinity of mankind.

They told stories of Earth where they were becoming weak. The UED took the hard line to their own population, killing off hundreds of millions seen as impure. And the UED were planning a similar purge on this Sector, but then came the retaliation where in a still unexplained alliance, Zerg, Protoss and the remnants of the Dominion Forces pushed the UED out of Korhal before they began their genocide. Kate closed her eyes. This city and planet was scared with battles and its previously vast gardens and nature were replaced with cold metal spires of business and trade. Perhaps that's why so many of Korhal's citizens took vacation to the beautiful world of Agria, where wildlife grew unchecked and terran influence was nearly unseen apart from a few farms and major cities. Of course that was all gone now thanks to the zerg invasion of the planet following the abandonment of it by the Dominion.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her subordinates quickly ushered her back into the broadcast room and begin briefing her on the horrific events that had just occurred. She had to quickly prepare and come up with a script on the spot. The UNN had gotten the scoop, however terrible, on the issue and Kate had to go on now. Her mind was shaken and she was utterly confused at what she heard. She couldn't believe it, but there was proof and it was near irrefutable. Her confusion turned to anger from deceitful betrayal and she prepared to be seen by millions.

"Breaking news today," said Kate Lockwell, strangely quiet. "We have received the word that Tyrador IX has been attacked. This is the first Core World to fall under enemy attack, and it has been devastated. This colony within the Tyrador system has been notoriously anti-Dominion. The reports claim that the planet's capital city has been laid to waste by a single being. We have the footage here. Prepare yourself, the images are disturbing."

A monstrous being of immeasurable might appeared on a shaky camera. Its roar was deafening and it was toppling buildings with a mere swipe of the paw. The video was very brief, but the clear image of the attacker was seen as it destroyed the metropolis capital of Tyrador IX.

"Emperor Mengsk held a press conference earlier today. Let's take you to that."

OOO

"This has been a devastating attack on the Terran Dominion," said the Emperor, powerfully. "Rest assured, this attack will not go unanswered. The Dominion protects its people. Our retaliation will be swift and just. We will establish safety to the Tyrador System, and all its colonies."

"Do we know what this new beast is?" demanded a concerned reporter. "Is it even sentient?"

"It, whatever it is, is not the true attacker," responded Arcturus. "I have quickly discovered the horrible truth of the one behind the beast. Even all the slanderous acts did not prepare me for this."

The screen behind Mengsk flickered to life and it showed the security camera of Jim Raynor as he sabotaged the fusion core in the facility, causing it to lose power and release the contained Hybrid. Cleverly, the camera cut off right before the Hybrid attacked Raynor.

"All the devastation you see on Tyrador IX was schemed by the criminal and terrorist James Raynor and his band of radical extremists," claimed the Emperor loudly. "As you just saw, James Raynor released the beast from captivity. I think it's safe to say that it is now under his control. I know many hearts have been won over by Raynor's tricks and lies but this here is irrefutable. In his unmitigated hatred for the Dominion, this man has lashed out and attacked a civilian colony. Raynor must be brought to justice and he will be. But our first priority is to quell the threat on Tyrador IX and save lives, just as it always has been. Dominion Protection will always safeguard its colonies from the terrors beyond. And I pray for those who choose to separate. If they are attacked, I cannot guarantee security for those who fall outside my jurisdiction. Because of the strong secession movement in Tyrador IX, refusing Dominion protection, the Dominion Fleet was slow to respond to the threat which claimed millions of lives today. I hope Dominion colonies can learn from the tragic incident with Tyrador as our forces already begin to fight the wretched beast and its master."

OOO

"And there you have it," said Lockwell. "The Emperor has given his first address to the media since the Tarsonis transmission incident. Now in this reporter's opinion, Jim Raynor, who once earned my support, has been revealed to be a cold-hearted murderer. We've checked over the video ourselves here at UNN. However short it was, it is indeed genuine. Nothing has been tampered with. What you saw was completely real. In light of this new evidence, we here at UNN firmly believe that Jim Raynor must be brought to justice just as the Emperor has said. And despite his murky past, we must trust in the Dominion to avoid another Tyrador IX. For UNN, this is Kate Lockwell."

Kate Lockwell flickered out of view as Valerian shut off the screen. "Well it appears you have won over your most critical assailant," he said, proudly. "Perhaps things will go smoothly after all."

"Watch and learn, son," replied Arcturus. "These people are mindless drones. Give them a mere morsel of the truth. Word it correctly and they will jump to conclusions for you. I know my people. I know what frightens them, and most importantly, I know how to control them. That is why _I _am Emperor."

"I only hope to be a worthy successor to you, father," said Valerian, quietly. "I've been preparing for quite some time. But to other matters, has the Dominion Fleet started containment of Tyrador IX?"

"We have already begun," muttered Mengsk. "We've located the beast on Tyrador IX. These sophisticated countermeasures we've developed will incapacitate the beast without harm so we may continue on other planets. Our mercenary friend has already moved her forces to protect Korhal first and foremost. Any other core world threats can be easily responded to from the throne world."

"Father, I must question your judgement on this matter," pressed Valerian. "Mira Han has had previous affiliation with Raynor-"

"As have you!" growled the emperor.

"Only under your orders," assured the young man. "But she obviously helped them in some way. She's even married to Raynor's second in command!"

"She's a mercenary," said the Emperor simply. "She will do anything to anyone for the promise of money. I remember the story of Deadman's Port being brought up in our conversation. Had that Colonel Orlan been able to pay Mrs. Han sooner, she would have attacked Raynor without hesitation. Don't worry about her motives. She's mine now, wrapped around my thumb, she will do what I tell her to. And that marriage ordeal...let's just say they're not exactly a happily married couple."

"But wouldn't it have been safer to employ another mercenary force instead, one with little affiliation with Raynor's Raiders, such as the aforementioned Colonel Orlan's group?"

"Ha!" laughed the Emperor. "Still so naive. You didn't hear? After that traitor Raynor left Deadman's Port, Mrs. Han murdered Colonel Orlan and took control of his men. Mercenaries are a rare gem in our sector but ones as cold and heartless as Mrs. Han, are a dime a dozen. She will obey me. She flies under my colours and will serve as part of the Terran Dominion, at least until her services are no longer needed."

"And then what?"

"We must take every precaution," whispered the Emperor. "We cannot simply allow such a force to go unchecked. When Mrs. Han's contract expires, so will she."

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**Author's Note: I keep getting these awesome scenes popping into my head, but then I get lazy and don't write them so I lose the spark. It's frustrating but I guess I'll make it happen somehow. Anyway, chapter 15 should be up Saturday, September 14th **. **Please read and review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: I've been looking forward to release this chapter and see what you guys think of it. Also, I hope people can take this as proof that if I ever state the date at which a chapter will be updated, I will hold true to it. I'm trying to stay true to my word. Anyway, enjoy this somewhat lengthy chapter!**

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Sarah awoke. Her vision was blurry and she shook her head several times before getting a good glimpse of her surroundings. She gazed down at her body. She was human, and she was nude, floating in a pond. Now that she looked closer, it was the same pond. She was on Haven again. Deciding not to think too hard on the matter, Kerrigan tilted her head back and floated calmly. She felt a ripple in the water, an unknown object which had invaded the purity of the pond. It was the zerg.

A tentacle latched on the Kerrigan's leg and began pulling her to shore. She frantically splashed her arms and tried to resist, but the zerg was powerful. It heaved as hard as it could as Sarah was being drawn away from the center, away from control.

"Help!" she cried to anyone.

The zerg pull was strong. Her arms and legs flailed in protest but she was being pulled to the dangerous ground, where she held no rule. Her feet grazed the sandy bottom and her eyes widened as it meant she was far too near to the ground. She kept pulling and tugging away from the zerg but it was persistent and slowly, Kerrigan lost more ground.

"No!" she whispered.

She was almost to shore, and then she saw a flicker of hope. A silver clad figure appeared out of thin air and raised its weapon, firing at the zerg. The creature reeled in pain as the bullets kept coming. It shot out a tentacle and ensnared the figure. The mysterious being was surprised and fell over, struggling as the tentacle tried to grab it as well as Kerrigan. But the figure would have none of it. It wrestled out of the grip of the zerg and charged at it with an empty gun. The figure smashed into its side and sent it flying into the lake. The zerg squealed as it splashed on the surface. It struggled to stay afloat but ultimately gave way to the depths of the pond and slowly sunk to the bottom. Kerrigan panted heavily as the tentacle released its grip. She immediately swam back to the center before catching her breath and looking at her saviour.

OOO

Kerrigan shot up in her bed. She raised a hand to wipe away the sweat from her forehead, but she found it being restrained by something. She looked down and saw Nova holding her wrist down on the bed. Nova on the other hand was knelt over Kerrigan's bed, looking exhausted and rough. In fact, Kerrigan was pretty sure that the blond was unconscious. Sarah's wrist felt strange and she couldn't explain it.

"So you're awake," said Doctor Hanson, walking into the scene. "Keep it up, and you'll end up being my fulltime patient."

"Doctor Hanson," greeted Sarah, weakly. "What happened?"

"Well for starters, we got rid of that creep tumour."

Sarah had forgotten about it. She frantically lifted up her gown to check her knee. It was not a purplish texture as she had feared. Rather it took on her normal human tan. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Then a painful thought entered her mind. Maybe, the marine didn't have to die. Maybe there was a way to remove the creep. Did Sarah force the marine to kill himself for nothing? All his bravery and courage, maybe it had been wasted on an unnecessary action and deprived humanity of one of its finest.

"How?" asked Kerrigan, shakily.

"We got lucky," replied the doctor. "When we found you, you must have been too tired to detect the creep tumour until it had progressed further. When I arrived, you were half infested already."

Kerrigan shuddered at the thought.

"You were unconscious of course, but even so, your psionic powers acted for you. They repelled and slowed the zerg invasion to buy us more time. Of course, after your run in the the Queen, you didn't have a lot of psionic power left to spare."

"And that's why Nova's at my bedside," concluded Sarah.

Ariel nodded. "She first suggested it to me as we noticed that your resistances were failing. I needed more time to extract the tumour so she drew on her psionic powers and intertwined them with your body. As you can tell, the experience was quite...draining. Nova's been seeping power into your system for almost 15 hours now. She didn't even have the energy to remain conscious."

Kerrigan cringed. This former enemy of hers had been at her bedside fighting to save her life, all the while risking a power strain which could have resulted in a comatose state. Nova didn't strike her as such a selfless person, but perhaps Kerrigan was quick to judge as well. She'd make it up to her somehow. It's the least she could do. Sarah couldn't even begin to imagine what would have happened if Nova hadn't appeared to fight off the zerg in her psyche.

"Is Jim here?" asked Sarah, softly. She didn't want him to see her like this, again, still so weak and frail, unable to fight her own battles without injuring her allies.

"He's back at Antioch still," replied the doctor. "I haven't even told him about your condition yet. I figured he'd be over here in a couple seconds, and the last thing we need is our commander away from base. Something big is happening."

Ariel sat on Kerrigan's bed. "Nova mentioned to me that you were trying to grab a weapon when she stopped you."

Kerrigan kept her lips firmly closed and looked away, determined to say nothing.

"I thought after our sessions, we'd have gotten past this whole suicidal phase," said Hanson.

"Well, you're not exactly a psychiatrist," said Kerrigan, bitterly.

"I'm a quick learner," assured Ariel. "And right now, I'm the best you've got. Take your incident for instance. Had I not understood zerg as well, you'd be looking a lot different right now."

She had a point. Kerrigan grabbed her neck but found it warm and fleshy rather than the cold metallic touch she had become accustomed to. She looked at the table beside her, where the dogtags were peacefully resting.

"Can you bring me those?" asked Sarah.

The Doctor brought them over to Sarah, who immediately put them around her neck. It felt cold and unwelcomed around her neck, a bitter reminder that no good deed goes unpunished. However Kerrigan refused to ever make the wrong choice again, which probably meant, she had a lot more pain coming her way.

"Those aren't yours," stated Ariel. "Did they belong to a friend? Someone close to you? Did he die in combat?"

Kerrigan stayed silent, her breath starting to rise again. Ariel took note of this, but decided to press on. She had to understand her patient.

"How did he die?" she asked. "Do you feel guilty about his death?"

Again, Kerrigan would not talk.

Ariel decided to make things a tad simpler. "What was his name?"

Kerrigan painfully closed her eyes. She had never bothered to ask, never bothered to see beyond the exterior shell of a marine suit until it had been too late. She hadn't appreciated the man beneath the armour until he was all but gone, save for his dogtags.

"I don't know," whispered Sarah.

"You don't know?" questioned Ariel. "His name is printed on the dogtags. You want me to check for you?"

"I don't _need_ to know," clarified Kerrigan. "I don't need to know his name to know how...how he...he..."

Kerrigan's heart rate spiked Ariel quickly rushed over to her bedside, laying her head on the pillow and trying to calm the agitated woman.

"I'm sorry," said Hanson. "I didn't mean to push you so hard. Just calm down and we'll get your heart rate down."

"Stim," said Kerrigan.

Ariel was confused.

"Stim!" insisted Sarah.

Ariel Hanson knew all too well of the effects of the stim packs. Her time on Agria, treating the overdosed Dominion marines stationed on the planet, had enlightened the doctor of all the stimpack's horrors but many of its benefits. It wasn't conducive to long term health, but maybe it's just what Sarah Kerrigan needed right now. So Ariel reached over and grabbed a syringe which she injected into Kerrigan's neck, immediately pacifying her anxiety. The doctor exited the room, ultimately unsuccessful in discovering what the problem with Sarah Kerrigan truly was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me," sighed Ariel, to herself. "I suppose there's only one person she'd even consider opening up to."

She glanced at Nova. "Maybe two."

Nova groaned and tried to sit up but her head ached in pain. It seems she had traded one injury for another as her legs had fully healed only for her head to split in pain as a side effect of psionic exhaustion. She realized she was no longer leaning over Kerrigan's body. Rather, she was laying on the bed with the red head by her side.

"How are you feeling?" asked Sarah.

"Terrible," replied the ghost, truthfully.

"You didn't have to do this," said Kerrigan.

"I didn't have to threaten my commanding officer either, but I did," said Nova, laughing a bit. "In the same way, you didn't have to save me. You could have kept running, but instead you turned around and rescued me from that zerg outpost. I guess you could say I owed you."

"You could have let Warfield shoot me," pointed out Sarah.

"Well, we women gotta stick together," said Nova, with a tiny smile appearing on her face. "Plus, I need you to save the universe so..."

They both chuckled and Kerrigan let Nova rest as she made her way out of Nova's room and back into her own. There she found an unusual guest. It never occurred to her how or why Nova was here. She saw an alien lying on the bed on the opposite side of the room. She decided to let it be and return and get some rest of her own.

OOO

_Thank you, Zeratul. You have freed me from her vile control at last. You have always served me with honour. Thus I must ask you to watch over my tribe. Into your hands I give the future."_

Zeratul woke up. He quickly sat up, igniting his warp blade and holding it at the neck of the figure in front of him. His eyes adjusted and he realized who he was threatening. His warp blade died and he calmed himself.

"You were muttering my name," said Sarah.

"So I was," he muttered, not wanting to carry conversation after such a nightmare.

Sarah's curiosity got the better of her. She slowly prodded her way into Zeratul's mind, but the Protoss was quick. He lashed out and deflected the mental attack and turned around furiously. His eyes gleamed dangerously and he made a fist in his striking arm.

"You dare," he growled. "My mind shall be invaded by the likes of no one! Never try that again, Sarah Kerrigan, or I shall be the end of you, prophecy or not. If you have the gall to play mind games with me, I will not be responsible for my actions! Your audacity knows no limits, terran. And you misjudge my leniency. This is _my_ mind! It is my own and is to be neither seen nor invaded by anyone! Not again..."

Zeratul turned away, touching his wound to the head. It was bandaged with terran medicinal treatments. Zeratul knew them only to be superficial, but they did grant him an amazing form of pain remover. The substance they called Morphine worked miracles for Zeratul as he struggled to maintain his composure despite his painful situation. His arm had started to heal already. While not blessed with the absurd regeneration of the zerg, the Protoss _were_ selected as the purity of form. And they excelled. Quickly recovering from injuries, rather than regenerating, made them slower to reinforce in combat, but stronger warriors altogether. For only those that knew pain could truly be masters of battle.

He thought to thank the ghost that had retrieved him. Had it been an enemy to confront the weakened Zeratul, he would have lost regardless of the enemy's might. She called herself Nova, and Zeratul quickly recognized her as the terran spy apprehended by himself. He was still wary of this brightly haired terran, but he was in no condition to protest. Beggars can't be choosers, as Raynor had told him, and Zeratul took note. They had gotten back to a friendly base, where when Zeratul heard the news of Kerrigan's disappearance, tried to find her when the terran spy blocked his path and ordered him to bed rest. Alas, his rest was over and his anger surged as his mind had nearly been violated.

"I'm s-sorry," stammered Kerrigan, backing away. "I didn't know you'd take it so seriously. I mean, it's not like I'm controlling you or anything."

"The mind is the one treasure I still possess," replied Zeratul. "All luxuries have past me by, save for this. And I will not part with it easily, rest assured. Minds are dangerous to tamper with."

"And yet you entered mine!" exclaimed Sarah. "You didn't even give me a choice!"

Zeratul was silent. "The circumstances were...different."

"That's no excuse!" said Kerrigan, stubbornly. "If you value the inviolability of the mind so much, you wouldn't have been so quick to mess with mine. What's the real problem here?"

She placed her hands on her hips and waited for a response from the large Protoss warrior. He stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating many things, among them, should he confide in his former enemy. And he remembered as Sarah Kerrigan killed the Queen of Blades. His enemy was long since dead and gone.

"My mind had been violated once before," whispered Zeratul. "And the consequences were unimaginable."

"I don't understand," said Kerrigan.

"My life," stated Zeratul. "It has been marked with failure, scarred with regret, and torn in half by guilt. My strength, however my people may see it, is not but an illusion, a mere trick that fooled the Protoss into elevating me to a hero status along the Greats such as Adun and Tassadar. Yet I am not half the beings they were nor carry half the strength that they once possessed."

Kerrigan edged closer to the distraught Protoss. "What failure did you experience?" she asked gently. She had to earn trust of at least someone beyond Raynor. And beyond him and Nova, the most non-threatening individual to her was Zeratul. At least he was before she had tried to break into his mind.

"I failed my Matriarch, I failed my people, I failed myself," said Zeratul in great pain. "If it causes you little pain, I advise you to look back and remember your showdown with dear Tassadar. Young Kerrigan, do you remember as the Great Tassadar lured your forces out, so to leave the cerebrate known as Zasz, unprotected?"

Kerrigan nodded.

"I remember it as well," murmured the warrior. "In fact, it is nearly all that I think of. I doomed my species the second that my blade fell on the cerebrate. It...it had only been a second, one second of contact between myself, a sworn protector of the Protoss, and a leader of a zerg brood. But in that one second, I unleashed an evil so great that it consumed my people. The Overmind, it felt me. It weaved its way into my mind and lurked about. I had been too busy with a mental attempt of my own, to find the origins of this monster race. I revealed Aiur to the zerg, and I condemned my race."

Zeratul shook violently and gripped the rails of his bed in anger. The rage in his body could be felt even by Kerrigan as she finally began to understand this traumatized warrior. His eyes closed, trying to calm himself, but he had come too far and he continued to speak his crimes.

"I gave away the location of Aiur to the Swarm!" bellowed Zeratul, in anguish. "The zerg were brought to Aiur through me! I am responsible for all that happened there. And then years had passed. I had deceived my very mind into believing that it was the Overmind's fault, not mine. And then I discovered that the Overmind was being controlled by a single ultimate-directive to exterminate our kind. And the truth came to me as painfully as a strike to the chest. There was but one person to blame and that person is the one who now carries an undeserved status with unearned praise. I did not save my race. I destroyed it."

Sarah didn't know what to say. Had she said the same things to Jim, all that time ago? Was Zeratul confessing his grief to her just as she had done to Raynor? And most importantly, could she respect the role she had been given and liberate the pained soul from destructive thoughts? At the very least, she'd try. She stared at the distraught alien, she made to comfort, but she allowed Zeratul to continue. For his sake, he had to confess all he had done, all the pain he had experienced.

"I caused all this havoc with a mere swipe of the blade," said Zeratul. "My hand is forever cursed as the one that brought down Aiur. For 5 years, the Protoss fought the zerg and kept them at bay, all the while safeguarding the location of Aiur. And in one mere moment, I ended it all. I made worthless the lives that had been spent guarding the secret homeworld. I spat on the departed spirits that sacrificed themselves for Aiur. As I struck down the cerebrate, I too struck down Aiur. And look at it now!" proclaimed Zeratul, lifting his hands in the air. "Ravaged, and broken by the zerg, this planet is damaged, perhaps forever."

Zeratul closed his eyes and thought back. "Oh, you should have seen it, Young Kerrigan. Even with my Dark Templar status, I travelled to Aiur, under a false guise of course. Razagal had continued to preach to my young mind that the Aiur Protoss deserved our love, not our contempt, regardless of their actions. She told my youthful spirit that we all came from the same place, and were all Protoss, no matter what allegiances we might have. And she firmly believed that the greatest allegiance was race itself and that in a time of need, Protoss of all kind would rally together. But I could not believe her. At the coming of my 100th year, I made my way to Aiur and saw the homeworld."

His eyes glowed brightly and he lifted his hand. Kerrigan knew what was coming. Zeratul shared his experience with the terran woman and together they both experienced what Zeratul had to share.

"Even my great hatred for those who banished us, could not stand up to the glory and the magnificence of Aiur," sighed Zeratul. "Rivers of unlimited pure water flowed through our cities. Golden towers of unprecedented height rose and declared to the rest of Aiur how much the Protoss were able to accomplish. And the land was pure. Jungles grew free amongst the fauna and the plants, undisturbed by the Protoss. My people lived happy lives on the golden planet. And they were not all warriors like you know now. Back then, we had...culture. We had definition beyond mere war. Here where we sit now, in the Heavenly Mountain Pass, artisans from all over would aspire to venture here once every century to depict the beauty of Aiur's terrain. Philosophers from Scion would rally at the highest point in Aiur to ponder. Virtuosic musicians would bless the cities with sweet melodies that flowed through all like a breath of elation and we had talented writers of poem, inspiration and history, whose works now lie destroyed beneath the rubble of an unforgotten fallen city."

"And to see it all like this, by my hand no less, makes me regret my decision, my action...my existence. Aiur would still be standing proud were it not for me. And may they all have forgiveness on me, for I spare none for myself. I failed my people."

"What happened here was terrible," said Kerrigan, finally. "But your existence hasn't caused the Protoss pain without joy. They must have happy when they heard you slew a cerebrate, and then another, and then another before killing the second Overmind. I don't know a thing about Protoss history, but I'll tell you, even we terrans don't have heroes like that."

"Your words are kind, Young Kerrigan, but my tale of suffering has not completed," continued Zeratul, his voice giving way into inane mutterings, losing clarity and coherence quickly. "Tassadar...hero of the Protoss, and my brief student, he died a senseless death. A second Overmind had grown to replace the one Tassadar had sacrificed himself to destroy. Perhaps it was death that redeemed Tassadar from a traitor to hero, but it was not a just end for him. I taught him the powers he used to destroy the Overmind. It should not have been him to sacrifice! It should have been me! A broken Dark Templar, unaccepted by his people. Instead my forces could not reach the Overmind quick enough, and Tassadar was forced to do the deed. The Protoss lost a hero and military genius that day. And all they had left was me, a regret filled old Khala-less Protoss who had nothing left to give, while the one who fell could have lent his skills to the betterment of the Protoss instead of becoming the sacrifice. And thus, I failed my student."

"I remember Tassadar," said Kerrigan, softly. "We had few words to exchange, and even fewer about you, but through the ones he did speak, I could tell he held you in high regard. You were his teacher, even if it was for a very short time. Everything he had, he must have learned it from you. Don't cut yourself short, Zeratul. A student learns his values from his teacher. All that you praise about Tassadar, you must have it in yourself as well. You have so much to offer the Protoss on top of all the zerg leaders you have already slewed. I don't think you failed Tassadar in his eyes. He would be proud of you."

"Perhaps," whispered the Protoss. "Perhaps your words carry meaning beyond simple conversation, but my next failure will not be soothed by gentle prose nor clever rhetoric."

"Your failure to your leader," said Kerrigan, piecing together where Zeratul was headed. The old Protoss nodded.

"I was her oldest warrior," claimed Zeratul, softly. "A close friend, and loyal servant. Razagal trusted me. She trusted me! And I proved that her faith was misplaced. I wasn't quick enough to notice her supplanting nor clever enough to refuse the Queen of Blade's alliance. And when she was taken...I couldn't save her."

If a Protoss had a way of grieving, Zeratul was determined not to let Kerrigan see it. He turned around and hit the wall hard with his fist. He shook now, not in anger but in sorrow. His talk had stopped and silence fell upon the pair. Sarah felt as if she had to do something, yet something told her to let Zeratul finish his tale.

"I killed my leader, my Matriarch, my friend," cried Zeratul. "She was skewered with my blade. I felt her blood leak onto my arm, her knees give way as I grabbed her to keep steady, and I saw the light leave Razagal's eyes. And I truly was in despair. And I see you now, previously slave to the zerg, now free person, my heart breaks in anguish. She didn't have to die. I didn't have to kill my Matriarch. She...she could have returned just as you did, but I ended her. Who was I to decide that? I was the hell bringer of Aiur, the executor of Tassadar and now I forced myself to kill my people's leader. She had led the Dark Templar forever! Why was it I who was forced upon this malicious situation! Had the universe not seen my torment complete? Did the Xel'Naga themselves condemn me to more suffering? And so I failed my leader."

Kerrigan couldn't speak. Ever since her return, she had always made herself believe that she had gone through the worst possible pain one could endure, yet with Zeratul, she was uncertain. She had been forced to betray a love one just as Zeratul had, and it was because of her that billions of her people died, yet there was a difference. She exacted revenge for her previous deeds.

"My greatest failure," said Zeratul. "I failed myself. You and I are different, Young Kerrigan. You had an enemy, the origin of all your misfortune, but someone who was beatable. I did not. It was the zerg who ravaged Aiur because of me. Could I have avenged the billions that died? Could I destroy the entire zerg race? No. I was not strong enough to avenge. And then Tassadar made his sacrifice. What could I avenge? And when dear Razagal died in my arms, I finally had had enough. I needed a way to end my sorrow. I looked for vengeance, and saw only myself. And as a coward, I chose not to die by my own hand, in repentance, but instead banish myself in seclusion. And even in the darkest corners of space, agony found me."

Small beams of light cracked through the blinds that covered the room. The sun had begun rising. They had talked through the night. And as a beam struck Zeratul, illuminating his face, even Sarah didn't have to understand Protoss physiology to see how greatly Zeratul was suffering.

"How do you think Raynor found the artefacts?" asked Zeratul, suddenly.

Kerrigan was taken aback. "The Moebius Foundation located them for him."

"The Moebius Foundation is an archaeological organization not an intelligence gathering conglomerate. They received the locations from an outside source. And who do you think supplied the information? It was I."

"Why did you have to go through two people when you had the locations yourself?" asked Sarah.

"I failed," said Zeratul again. "After Razagal's death, I couldn't bring myself to kill another Protoss. I hadn't been strong enough to stop the zerg, to stop Tassadar or to stop the Queen of Blades. And I couldn't touch my Tal'Darim brothers even in their insanity. So I passed the information onto the Moebius Foundation, counting on the fact that they'd reach out to Raynor. And they did, but it was too late. The Second Great War had begun. Billions died within days. And I watched it all, overwhelmed in more sorrow. I failed myself. I failed to overcome my woes. Had I been strong enough to cast aside the grievances that plagued my mind, I would have been able to gather the artefacts myself, and return you, before all those people had died. But I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. And billions more paid the price."

"I know how it feels," said Kerrigan, quietly, "to feel as if you're responsible for everything that's happened because of one decision made. I understand that some days, you crawl into a corner, and try to escape, try so hard to turn your thoughts away from all the sadness but you can't. We're...we're unfortunate people, Zeratul, mixed up in the universe's great plan. I can't say whether things would have worked out fine if neither of us had ever existed. I don't know if this was all preordained from the beginning. And I can't tell you if all this sorrow could have been avoided. But I can say that there is always hope in these desperate times. There's always a tiny ray of light to illuminate the darkness."

Both their eyes rested on the light coming through the blinds.

"All you say might be true, Zeratul," said Kerrigan. "All this could be your fault...your failure, but it's not over. We still have a part to play here and it's your choice whether or not to continue. I've already made my choice, but yours now lies before you. If you choose to stop, to give up, that is where your true failure will occur. Abandon all because of the pain, instead of growing stronger because of it, and you _will_ be a failure to the Protoss. But if you fight, if you stand against the evil, even after all you've been through, you, maybe just maybe, can be the hero that the Protoss need. Maybe, just maybe, you will finally be able to forgive yourself."

OOO

"What troubling news do you bring, Raynor," asked the Hierarch, uneasily.

Raynor paced around the room, bringing up the tactical screen for Protoss controlled Aiur.

"Fenix got that Warp Gate up and running again. We've got your ships flying in troops back here at Antioch every other hour. We got no shortage of men, that's for sure, but still, there's a lot to worry about."

"Explain."

"My boys erected a high output sensory tower around the warp gate," started Raynor. "It revealed a gigantic zerg force. They are massing at the central continent, just beyond our forces. I took a look at other continental observers, and there's no zerg there at all."

"They have pulled all their forces to a single location," murmured Artanis. "Why?"

"There's only one answer," said Raynor, grimly. "They are preparing for an all out assault. My guess is that they're desperate. We just got more reinforcements from the Warp Gate and now the zerg have decided to throw everything they have at us in a last ditch attempt, and they certainly have the numbers for it. It's an all or nothing attack"

"Then we must begin more extreme fortifications immediately!" stated Artanis.

"There's more," continued Raynor. "I got several messages while you were at the Warp Gate with Fenix. Executor Selendis ventured further out of the Scion and met fierce resistance. She was defeated and her forces are retreating back to Scion. Her recount of the battle reinforces the idea that all zerg on Aiur are preparing to attack."

"This is not a conversation only to be had between us," concluded Artanis.

He summoned up a meeting with his trusted warriors. "En taro Tassadar," they all greeted.

"My friends, we face a grave threat," spoke the Hierarch. "We have enjoyed reasonable success as of late, but the enemy has become wiser. They are preparing to wipe us all out, in one fell swoop. We must react quickly before it is too late. Retreats must be made and ground must be forfeited or our victories shall accumulate into a terrible defeat."

"And where do these beasts come from?" asked Mohandar.

"The zerg are massing at the central continent and the early reports show most zerg near the frontier of Scion," told Raynor.

"Prelate Urun, you are to withdraw from the capital of Scion once you have rejoined with the forces of Executor Selendis," said Artanis.

"With all due respect, Hierach, we have fought tooth and nail for this land," protested Urun. "Many Protoss have fallen to reclaim Scion and now you suggest we surrender it and pay no heed to the lives given?"

"Scion will not hold!" said Artanis loudly. "We have not the strength to defend both Scion and Antioch. If we are forced to fight the zerg on two fronts, both shall break. We must fall back to Antioch immediately or Scion will fall before the Swarm."

"There's is neither proof nor certainty that the threat you perceive is even real!" exclaimed the Prelate. "For all we know, it is merely the faulty equipment of the Terrans in disrepair. I see no reason to abandon Scion at the whims of a few red dots on a screen."

Raynor looked to Artanis. If there was any hope to hold out against the zerg, Artanis had to act.

"Prelate Urun," he spoke softly. "I am well aware you do not hold me in high opinion, but I was chosen to represent the Protoss and you _will_ obey the will of your people. My orders stand. You _will_ withdraw from Scion upon the arrival of Executor Selendis. And if you refuse, I _will_ supersede your authority and recall our forces myself if I must. Do we understand one another?"

"We do, Hierarch," muttered Urun.

Artanis turned to the rest of the Hierarchy. "Make no mistake, my brothers," declared the leader. "War is coming. With all its glory. And all its horror. People will die. The Khala will be overwhelmed with spirits departing our world, but know this, my brothers, this is our decisive moment! These few hours could determine the fate of Aiur, and of our species. A day's worth of battling could have validated the existence of all the hundreds of years we lived. The zerg commit all their forces against us, not in confidence, but in desperation! If we defeat the zerg here today, our planet will becomes ours, uncontested and restored."

"Think, everyone of you, what that means!" exclaimed Artanis, bravely. "How much would you sacrifice to see the golden spires of Scion illuminated by the bright Aiur Sun, or how much would you give to see Antioch become once again, the pride of Aiur? Or how much would you forfeit to see the Jungles of Aiur grow again, or the rivers of our world to flow with water rather than blood? How much does Aiur mean to all of you? Is it worth your lives? Is it worth the lives of our Protoss soldiers? Is it worth the lives of all those who have given their lives against the swarm? Is it worth Tassadar? It is to me."

Mohandar spoke. "We stand as one, mighty Hierarch. Not a zerg shall touch the walls of Antioch while I still breathe. My forces are yours, to direct in combat, even to death. If that means we restore Aiur, than I will commit myself to the act, as great Tassadar would have."

Prelate Urun finally spoke. "We were not mistaken in choosing you, Hierarch. This is it. This is our moment. We can be victorious today. We can triumph over the zerg and put at rest all the tormented souls that fell defending our beloved homeworld. And we will do so, unified under your banner Hierarch and by your orders."

Artanis finally knew, the Hierarch had finally succeeded the Conclave. "My brothers," he looked at his warriors. "Words cannot express how much this means, how drastic our actions may have today, but know that while a single Protoss still lives, Aiur will never belong to the zerg! Let us take back our planet once and for all! Let us purge the wretched monsters from our land! And let us fight as one! May the Greats watch over us! En Taro Tassadar!"

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**Author's Note: I really liked writing this one. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I was writing the speech of Artanis with epic trailer music playing in the background so it might have seemed better to me than it will to you, but I hope not. As you can probably tell, I'm a big fan of anaphora so hopefully I didn't over do it here.**

**You may have noticed that I included several lines of dialogue from the Starcraft games, in fact if you look closely, you will find nearly chapter has a small Starcraft 1 or 2 quote hidden. I made this one a little obvious and because of that, I feel the need to once again point out that I do not own the Starcraft franchise.**

**Zeratul's character is one I've been dying to expand forever. I had it all in my head, then I lost it and it took time to recollect my thoughts. I used the interaction between Fenix and Artanis from the previous chapter, not only to explain Fenix's return, but also to gage interest in Protoss character development. The comments were pretty much all positive so I decided to continue with Zeratul.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this one. I'm not very solid on Chapter 16 date, but if all goes well, it shouldn't be more than a week's wait. Again, thanks for reading and please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. I've been sitting on this one for a while now, not knowing if I should post it. But alas here it is. Enjoy

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A marauder's arm shot backwards from the recoil of launching a deadly Quad K12 Punisher Grenade down the steep mountain at the zerg passing by. Even with all their jagged claws, the zerg would not be able to reach them at this extreme verticality, but still, the men were worried. This last wave was exceptionally strong. In their seven days holding the chokepoint, only one wave had been strong enough to power past the siege tank barrage and make it into the mountain pass. Today, there had been six waves, and all of them forced the Marauders to be on their guard.

"They're pushing hard, General," mentioned a Marauder. "When to we fall back?"

"We're still waiting for the word!" cried Warfield, over the explosions of tank rounds and Marauder grenades. "We got the choke so we'll be the last ones to fall back! In the meantime, hold your ground, and don't let those zerg by you! While we're waiting for the order, I'm cooking up a nice goodbye surprise for those zerg."

Several reapers had jettisoned into view. Their Nitro packs allowed them to scale the steep walls of the mountains. They would stop every once in a while to place a D-8 charge on the mountainside, than be quick to continue. Time was short, they all knew that. Any second now, they'd be getting the word to fall back. And it was up to the reapers to make sure that the zerg didn't follow them.

"Another wave, general!" warned a ghost sniper through his scope. "This one is a lot bigger."

The General finally got the order. "All right, boys, we're moving out! Get the tanks to revert from siege mode, and send up 6 transports to load them while we still got time. All Marauders, we are leaving! We'll get some Medvacs to pick us up from these cliffs! Until then, stay frosty.

Buildings all around Sarah were lifting off. Using terran ingenuity, scientists had managed to make these enormous buildings take flight. More and more Medvacs were landing down to transport the siege tanks and marauders away from the base. A particularly large group of transports whizzed past her head. It was probably the marauder and tank force.

Kerrigan scowled in irritation. They were the ones holding the line. If the zerg made a push now, no one would be there to stop them. They should have at least waited for the base to retreat before doing so themselves. But obviously, Warfield was a valued tactical commander so he was priority. She looked around her. Doctor Hanson had been relieved by a Medvac several hours ago. Only Nova, Zeratul, and a detachment of Reapers were still at the base. Even the SCVs had evacuated already. It was just them. A sleek black Spec Ops Dropship landed nearby and some of the reapers began immediately boarding.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed a reaper still on the cliff. "Oh shit, we got zerg inbound!"

"Details!" demanded Nova, quickly.

"It's...it's a baneling bust! They're gonna knock down our front door without even a shot fired at them."

"Detonate, detonate!" yelled another Reaper.

"We can't!" he replied. "We can't waste this ordnance on a couple banelings! I count 5...6...7 banelings, incoming. We gotta deal with them as soon as they break down that supply depot."

"You're not understanding soldier!" yelled Nova. "There's no one here! We got no support!"

The reaper had gone silent. He was already making his way down the cliff and would be the last man off the Heavenly Mountain Pass.

"God damn it," the blonde growled. She tossed a rifle to Kerrigan. "Get ready, guys. As soon as those green bastards come through the wall, we're gonna knock em' dead."

The reapers nodded in understanding. Unfortunately, their small pistols wouldn't do much against the zerg suicide pack. A gigantic explosion was heard and the blocking supply depot went up in flames. Several green zerg rolled through the flames, at incredible speeds.

"Open fire!" cried Nova.

The remaining soldiers let loose a salvo of cruel metal. There were 3 banelings left. 2 had gone down to take the supply depot. Another 2 had fallen to the terran fire. But the remaining 3 were gaining speed. They veered off course and deviated from their destructive path towards the reapers. Kerrigan shockingly looked to see where these zerg were heading. And then she caught glimpse of the black ship.

"No!" she yelled. "They're going for dropship! Stop them!"

However many rounds were fired, didn't make a difference. The baneling carapaces crashed into the Spec Ops Dropship and delivered their suicidal explosive acidic attack. The Dropship went up in flames. The reapers were panicking. Nova as well looked anxious. Zeratul however, remained calm, gazing the scene for a solution.

"Is there anything else left here?" asked Nova.

"Um, um...yes!" exclaimed a soldier. "We still got an old Hercules Dropship! Let's go!"

"I ain't stepping foot on that thing!" protested Nova. "Those ships are as old as the Confederacy! Who knows when it'll fail?"

"We don't have a choice," replied Kerrigan, tugging at her companion's arm to follow.

Zeratul followed in suite, without a word. The group of 20 made it to the old transport, where a pilot had conveniently been snoozing away, through all the gunfire.

"Take off!" yelled Nova.

The pilot woke up, suddenly. He rubbed his eyes. "Alright, don't get your knickers in a bunch."

The doors sealed shut and the engines were powering on. The group all piled into the ancient vessel. They nervously strapped themselves into the seats as the pilot took off.

"I didn't even think this piece of junk was even capable of flight," muttered Nova, taking a seat beside Kerrigan.

"Maybe we caught a break," said the Redhead with a smile.

Beneath them, the lead reaper gazed out the window and saw the massive zerg ground force, moving through the mountains, uncontested. He reached for his detonator and unleashed a payload of fire and shrapnel. The mountain pass caved in on itself, crushing the zerg army, and preventing anymore zerg from passing the mountain.

"Death from above," he muttered to himself, contently.

Kerrigan manoeuvred her way over to the silent Zeratul as he gazed out at Aiur. Zeratul took notice of her and gave her a unique Protoss smile. She smiled back in her own way.

"What do you think about this?" she asked.

"Giving up ground is very costly," said the warrior. "But I am no leader. I am simply a soldier. The tough decisions rest upon the shoulders of our Hierarch and I trust him to do the right thing."

"We will win," he said very quietly. Perhaps he didn't even know that Kerrigan picked up that thought.

"So you haven't quit yet?" asked Sarah.

"I shall persevere," replied Zeratul. "All this, was my fault. I am guilty of Aiur's destruction. But by the gods, I will be part of the movement to take it back. I must correct my failure, no matter what. The zerg numbers may even rank in the millions, but I will take them on. I must repent for my actions and I will do so to the screams of dying zerg. I will not let my failure continue. This is one mistake I _must_ correct, for Aiur's sake, for my race's sake...for my sake. I will see to it that this is the end of the zerg reign on Aiur, and perhaps...perhaps I will be forgiven."

Their attention was pulled away as a loud beeping noise came from the pilot controls. Nova moved up to the pilot, who had begun sweating rapidly.

"We got 2 corruptors inbound!" he whispered. "We don't stand a chance."

Nova quickly sent out a message across all channels. "This is the Reaper detachment of the Warfield Batallion! We're a click out from Antioch and we need support! Any Phoenix in the skies?

The line was dead. "Viking patrols?" she asked, again.

Nothing.

"Even a wraith escort?"

She got the same answer. She hit the wall in frustration. Outside, the Corruptors had quickly closed the distance, lashing out at the old transport with their parasite spores. The acidic green attack was quickly eating away at the transport's primitive armour.

"The ship's going down!" yelled the pilot to the rest of the members on board. "Everyone, get into the survival pods. I'll launch when everyone's strapped in, and be prepared. This is gonna hurt."

The reapers scrambled into the nearest survival pod. Zeratul awkwardly stumbled into one while Nova and Kerrigan also dashed towards their salvation. The pilot looked at them sadly, and saluted before releasing the pods. And it had been not a second to soon, as the ship's engines exploded soon after, engulfing the old transport in flames.

Kerrigan couldn't see anything. The survival pod was not exactly roomy. There was just enough space for her to squeeze in. She couldn't imagine how marauders or marines would have been able to fit in here. There was no window, or any sort of gage for how high up they were. It was all black and Kerrigan felt only the sickening feeling of freefalling. She couldn't even tell if everyone else had been able to launch. Blindly, she tumbled to the earth, hundreds of feet in the air. She didn't know when she would hit the earth, and therefore could not properly prepare for it.

The force of the survival pod colliding with the ground, albeit at reduced speeds, was such that it winded Sarah and she even felt the frame of the pod crack. Desperately, she kicked open the pod, and collapsed onto the earth. Looking around, the group was not in good shape. It appeared most Reapers and suffered broken bones. Two had died from the impact. Nova appeared relatively fine, as did Zeratul, but now, they were on foot.

A familiar rumble was heard as zerglings appeared from the ground below. The reapers scattered, terrified. They used their Nitro Packs to leap onto the high cliff above and begin fleeing.

"Reapers!" screamed Kerrigan. "Hold your ground!"

But they were long gone. It was two ghosts and a Protoss versus dozens of zerglings. Kerrigan prepared herself. As the zerglings began their charge, Kerrigan predicted their path, and let loose a psionic storm, larger than any she had ever created. It crackled and sizzled the zerg beneath it. Nova was sniping zerglings left and right while Zeratul had also raised his hand. Another psionic storm appeared, of lesser power though. Kerrigan looked at Zeratul amazed. It appears, he was very strong indeed.

Nova moved away, trying to get to the high ground while Zeratul cloaked and engaged the zerglings head on. Kerrigan stayed back, trying to focus down individual zerglings. She saw a shadow and then realized she was underneath a daunting Overseer. Something fell from it, and Kerrigan leapt out of the way. The fallen objects were violet, gelatinous globs. They moved around slightly before noticing Sarah. She quickly shot two, but the third, she was unable to.

Its shape began changing. Its form twisted and grew. The purplish texture gave way to a silver tone and defined features appeared. Sarah stood back in horror. A perfect copy of herself was staring her in the face. It craned its neck, looking at the original in wonder. It approached, and Sarah backed away quickly, raising her rifle, yet unable to fire on herself. She recognized this as a changeling. If memory served her correct, changelings were very short-lived zerg strains which would die quite after they had been made. Sarah was hoping to reach the time limit. Killing herself was not something she was keen on doing. The battle around her grew unimportant and her only interest had become the redhead woman across from her.

"What's wrong?" asked the copy. "Does this shape not please you?"

Kerrigan said nothing, but continued to back up.

"Shall I become something...more familiar?

The changeling reduced itself to its original form, before sprouting up again as creep like skin enveloped its body with bony limbs spurting from its back. It stared at Kerrigan maliciously.

"Maybe now, you recognize yourself."

"That's not me," declared Sarah.

"It was..." whispered the changeling. "And if you want it, it still could be."

"And why would I want to become that disgusting thing?" whispered the ghost.

"Power," snared the copy. "I feel it in you, but a mere shadow of your former strength. You long for it. I can sense your lust for might, do not hide it, my dear. Has your time with my forces been a revelation of sorts to you? I know what you thought then. You ventured from the safety of others. And you were too weak to adequately defend yourself. You suffered setbacks, injuries, the likes of which would have been a mere scratch to the Queen of Blades. So you deeply desired the power, the strength to destroy your foes. And in the back of your mind, you realize why. It is only when we lose something that it truly appreciated. You _were_ powerful as the Queen of Blades. And you wish you still carried her strength.

"Shut up!" lashed Kerrigan. "I would not give myself up to the zerg again for all the power in the world. What good would it do anyway? How am I going to destroy the zerg if I become one? You think I'm naive enough to surrender my mind again?"

"But you have experience!" hissed the copy. "You know how your mind was invaded and now you can take steps to counteract it. I can help you. I offer humbly to you, the power of the zerg with the same mind that know ponders my proposition."

Kerrigan closed her eyes painfully. The zerg had read right through her. All the feelings of helplessness she had harboured during her time in the jungle had been exposed. She'd often entertain the thought of how differently things would have gone if she still had the power of the Queen of Blades. And subsequently after, she would punish herself for thinking such incredulities. But there was a simple fact. She was weaker as a human than she was as the Queen of Blades. And it frightened her. Was the offer genuine? Could she take advantage of the power while keeping her own will? Didn't Jim always say that the most important part of humanity was your soul? She wasn't giving that up, just her appearance. She'd still be human in the most important way. Kerrigan didn't know what she was going to do.

But the Changeling had grown tired of waiting. "I take your silence as a refusal," it hissed. "Oh what bravery you have, my child, to witness all the zerg can do, yet still refuse its power when you so desperately need it. Though it appears your cleverness did not leave with the zerg. Had you joined us, your mind would belong to me, yet regrettably, it appears you have refused, and so, my duty as changed from persuasion to elimination."

"But allow me first to show what you are to expect now that my offer is expired," cackled the creature. "Your friends, your comrades, those who willingly fight beside you now, will soon taste nothing but the cold bitterness of death. Your allies will burn in flames. They will be consumed by the darkness. They. Will. Die."

The creature transformed. Kerrigan's eyes widened. She saw Zeratul's body, ridden with Hydralisk spikes, spread like an eagle across the floor, the green luminescence from his eyes all but gone, and the ferocity of a warrior long since spent. It transformed again and Kerrigan now saw Nova, bleeding everywhere, kneeling down in pain while she grasped a Lurker spike impaling her stomach.

It took several steps towards Kerrigan, who was still unwilling to fire on herself. Finally she mustered the courage and put a round into the zerg's left shoulder. Its body jerked back from the impact, immediately returning to its gelatinous form. It then re-appeared, now lacking the red hair. A dark beard sprung from its chin, and a small tan crept over the skin. It grew even higher than Sarah, until to her horror, she realized what had changed.

Raynor grinned at her, marching forward, once more. If Sarah had been reluctant before, she had completely refused to fire on her lover. Even knowing the falseness of this portrayal, Kerrigan's body trembled and her backing up had come to an end. Her back hit the cliff behind her and she had nowhere to go. Raynor grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He put a boot on her throat and pressed down. Sarah gasped for the air she could not intake. She could have done it. She could have grabbed his other boot, flipped it off its feet, and subsequently eliminated the threat. But she couldn't harm him, even the projection of him.

She closed her eyes, thinking only of Jim, how he fought so hard for her, killing his best friend. The bravery, the courage, the dedication of that man was seemingly spent and spent again, yet somehow he had endless amounts to give. And Kerrigan looked into the copy and saw only derision, scorn and hatred. This creature tainted Jim Raynor. The zerg tainted all. Nothing they touched remained as they were, even Kerrigan. She could never truly return to the way she was, but she remembered her promise to the marine. She'd sooner kill herself than have the zerg influence upon her once again. She would never be able to forgive herself if she returned to the zerg even with free will.

"Die," whispered the changeling. "Die like your allies soon will. Die like the billions you killed before. Die and you will spare yourself from the coming vision of the Swarm descending upon all."

"You have no idea what you're going up against," said Sarah. "A battle can be won by more than brute force. So throw everything you have at us. We can take it. And we can inflict an even greater loss on you than on Char!"

"We!" shrieked the changeling. "Us? You poor thing, have you convinced yourself that you are rid of the swarm? Has your mind truly betrayed reality to shield you from the harsh truth? You're not one of them! You're not! And yet, neither are you truly one of us! You are simply a hybrid. And I suppose, in your altruistic view of life, it makes you even worse than the zerg. Neither on one side of the spectrum nor the other, you hover in the middle between frail naivety and monstrous power. What ever strengths either side procures, you enjoy none of them. You were not part of the attack on Char. You are not part of the attack on Aiur. And the simple reason being: you are not human. You speak of we? Of us? To which side to you refer to, for you are on neither. There is none like you! You are alone."

"I am human," struggled Sarah beneath the heavy steel boot. "I am human," she repeated again. "That's the one thing I know for certain. I am human. And I'm not going to let anyone say I'm not. Not the Protoss, not the zerg, not even Jim. No one will deny me my humanity. And I'm not going to sacrifice it for a goal I can attain without it!"

Mustering the courage, she flipped the changeling off her neck and took a deep breath of desperately needed air. She panted, placing her rifle end at Raynor. He furiously lashed out, only to be beat back by the butt of Kerrigan's rifle.

"Your impudent fool!" it scowled. "You have made your choice. Now can you follow through? You may well be willing to take your own life before we do, but what of Raynor? Would you kill him to prevent what happened to you, to happen to him? Do you love _him_ enough to pull the trigger? I think not. I think your pathetic human nature will allow him to be consumed, while you are powerless to pull the trigger."

The changeling transformed subtly. Creep attached to Raynor's arm and crawled its way up his body until it had reached his face, reducing it to a purple mass of destitution. It grinned wildly.

"Can you subject him to the horrors you received? Because I promise you, without me that is what will happen. The great Protoss, Zeratul will find himself outmatched by our sheer might. That sneaky blonde psionically powered terran will die in agony. And the terran hero Raynor shall be unable to stop the coming doom. But you...we shall leave you alive, and tortured. My minions will stay their hand against you only to force you to watch as we take your loved one."

"You're not Jim," whispered Sarah. "You're nothing more than a disease. Even your impersonation of him pollutes his image. I won't let this go on any further. If I had to make the choice, I _would_ pull the trigger. But that will never happen. You were beaten at the apex of your strength. You can be defeated. And I'll be the one to put the bullet in your brain for your atrocities. I don't need the zerg. I don't need you. I may not have the strength of the Queen of Blades anymore, but I have twice the resolve. And that's what counts. Strength isn't everything and I'll show you that soon."

"So foolish," laughed the creature. "Ungrateful terran, your arrogance knows no bounds! I protected you while you were still a chrysalis! I served you loyally to the end and what did you do? You banished me to the desolate realm of Antiga Prime while you murdered the rest of my brothers! Even then, I was content that in doing so, the Swarm became stronger, but then you betrayed us. You turned from the Swarm, and abandoned us. So the zerg looked to me, the only remaining cerebrate, to lead. And now, I have. My first act is to utterly wipe out the pathetic force that has attempted to take back this conquered world. We will erase your existence entirely! So fire if you can Sarah Kerrigan. Shoot me!"

Sarah felt her arm jerk back as the round exited her rifle. It hit Raynor, straight between the eyes. He jerked to the right. The bullet threw his whole body off balance. The blood flew out of the wound, landing on his dark long hair, coating his face as he continued to fall. His head hit the floor with a sickening thud. His face angled towards Sarah, as it was within steps of the end. Eyes, not given the decency of darkness, laid stretched out, forever peering into that which he could not see. And his eyes faded in an indescribable way. They darkened without the radiance of life and his eyes died.

She looked away, devastated. She had what it took to pull the trigger, but she wasn't prepared for the pain that came after, even if it was still just a copy. Its body soon gave way and exploded in a purple haze, not leaving a trace of its former existence. Sarah crawled behind a nearby rock, wrapping her arms around her legs, and huddling by herself, shuddering. Even for a changeling, that had been a far too accurate depiction of Raynor, and his death. The image was burned into her mind, and moments later, they repeated in her head. Jim's head lurching back with the bullet contact, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, blood bleeding freely from the wound, and an outstretched hand as he died.

Before it disappeared, Sarah caught glimpse of Jim's eyes, as the life left him. Was it anger? Was it betrayal? Fear? Or was it all a ruse? Kerrigan prayed that the portrayal was not accurate. It hadn't even been real, yet it was one of the most horrible things she had ever seen. She knelt down and heaved. She stumbled away before again, puking. Her mind screamed against her body and her wobbly legs could not stand again. So she crawled. She rocked back and forth, behind the relative safety of the large rock, nervously whispering calming words, and closing her eyes tightly to attempt and block out Raynor's death. Her head fell into her hands. Sarah felt her heart pounding at her ribcage, as if her very body was demanding her death in recompense of Jim's.

She knew what was going to happen, the second she pulled the trigger, yet all the foresight in the world could not have prepared her for it. It was still not real. That was the only soothing thought to come to Sarah. But his eyes pierced her mind and once again, shook her to the core. After actually witnessing his death, could she do it again? She had backed up her words once, but this had changed. Could she truly pull the trigger on Jim, knowing exactly how much it would hurt? She attempted to close her mind against the constant poundings of the horrid thoughts, though even the psychic could not control her mind now.

"Sarah?" asked Nova, quietly peaking out behind the rock.

The fighting had ended. Zeratul was finishing the rest of the stragglers.

"Are you okay?" Nova pressed, concerned. "Do you need anything?"

"I..." Kerrigan was lost for words. "I need a stim."

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**Author's Note: Well, I wasn't totally content with this chapter. I was trying to do something interesting with the changeling but in the end, it didn't completely pan out. However, people tell me that I'm too critical of my own work so I'll leave this up to you guys to decide.**

**Things did not go exactly as planned. The more I needed inspiration from Starcraft, the better I got at the game. And the better I got at the game, the more I played the game. And the more I played the game, the less I wrote for the game. So as soon as I start sucking again at Starcraft, I'll start writing more frequent chapters. Until then, expect weekly updates.**

**I feel compelled again to thank all the reviewers for their comments. Please continue to do so. It's invaluable to me and I'm grateful some people take a couple minutes to write a short review to my story. Next update should be Thursday/Friday.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Hurray, this chapter is going up early! This is a very combat heavy chapter, with a little bit of character development. But to my credit, I did attempt to make the combat more interesting. Please enjoy!

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"Matt," sighed Raynor.

"Not this time Jim," declared the captain. "You ain't gonna brush this off like all those other times. We're your team, Jim. We gave you leniency about Kerrigan, but this has gone on long enough. Damn it, who were the ones that went through hell and back for you? It was us! We abandoned our previous lives to fight the good fight with you! To fight the Dominion and to return freedom to the Korprulu Sector."

"We're still doing that!" argued Raynor.

"Are you?" questioned Matt. "We, your crew aren't so sure anymore. Look around you, commander. There are people within our ranks who we set out to destroy. We got Dominion forces all over our ship. We got despicable mercenaries lurking around. We got Kel-Morian bastards pushing their way into Raynor's Rebels and the Umojans who, even now, must be sniffing around, looking for intel on us! This ain't Raynor's Rebels anymore! You're outsourcing help to everyone, anyone! Even if they're our enemies, you'd look past that for your short-sighted goals."

"Short sighted goals?" repeated Raynor. "Son, if we don't stop the zerg, we'll all die! That's not short-term thinking. I get it. You're not a very trusting person, Matt. Remember Tychus?"

"For good reason!" replied the captain. "He was a spy!"

"He was also a friend," said Raynor. "You may not trust all the boys we got on our side, but the fact remains that we need them."

"No fight is one worth sacrificing your principles over," said Matt stubbornly.

"You're too naive," muttered Jim. "We don't live in this idealistic world you want. Sometimes, we gotta cut deals with bad guys, turn a blind eye to their actions and make do with what we have. It may not be honourable, it may not be ethical, but it sure as hell is the right decision."

"You talk about freedom, the Kel-Morians practice slavery!" yelled Matt. "You talk of bringing down Mengsk, his forces are the ones we now call allies! And you speak of a free world, yet you employ glorified pirates to do your bidding. This isn't compromise, sir. This is a complete rejection of all we stood for. And the crew aren't gonna tolerate it much longer. Our revolution is falling apart with every enemy we label friend."

A massive eruption of loud voices rang through the empty halls of an Antioch city building. Raynor looked over Matt's shoulder to see what the disturbance was. It seemed to be coming from the mess hall they had set up, large enough to house all terran forces. Matt shook his head sadly.

"Looks like it's already begun," he muttered.

Raynor moved past Horner, running by the symmetrical golden arch doorways and proceeding into the huge room, where a dire situation was about to explode. Marines had filled the huge space with their daunting suits and menacing rifles. They had split. 5 groups and 5 colours decorated the golden hall. To the right stood Raynor's men, dressed in blue while the Dominion forces stood opposed to them, in blood red. Umojans stood steadfast in aqua blue while the Kel-Morians stood equally inflexible in green suits of war. The small group of mercenaries stayed in a corner, clad in black gear. The segregation of separate forces was clearly visible. The men trusted each other so little that they were always in combat gear around one another, each expecting a shot to the back. Though now, the temporary but peaceful tension had collapsed, giving way to a full blown fight between opposing factions.

"Kel-Morian scum!" yelled Rory Swann. "I'll lose my other arm before I work with bastards like you!"

"Keep talking, we'll see it so," responded a green marine.

"You gotta lot of nerve, questioning the help you need," spoke a mercenary. "When your life is on the line, you accept whatever comes to you, without a second's thought. An old ungrateful cripple like you should know that by now."

"We fight for freedom!" roared Swann. "We fight for a cause! What cause do you have? There ain't nothing keeping you here than a few measly credits. Hardly something worth fighting for and never something worth dying for! You sit there in your dark corner, content to fight for whatever side, while we are the ones to stand up for a cause and be the real men. It's up to guys like _us_ to make sure this Sector finally has peace while you're only goal is to get a good payday."

"Peace?" laughed a Dominion officer. "Don't think we're idiots! You have the idea that you're some sort of freedom fighters, trying to liberate Terrans. All I see is a weak band of murdering race traitors! You think we ain't human? We had friends too! We had families, we had kids. And we got people we care about that were gunned down by you fellas. I knew 20 men that you Raynor's Rebels killed. You're not imposing peace. By disrupting the system, you're just killing your own species, little by little."

"Scum like you, that fight for a dictatorship aren't worth keeping alive!" shouted an Umojan. "We got starving kids back home because of your no trade policy with us! Because we won't jump in bed with the Dominion, they see it fit to starve us to death. You better not hold yourself in such high esteem, buddy. Dominion can go to hell."

"Every soldier you kill is one that had a life, a reason worth living!" said the Dominion officer. "And in your delusional quest for freedom, you deprived hundreds of men of their lives. We got a war waging with the zerg and you think we should be killing each other? It's time for you to fall in line, boys. We got bigger problems."

"Fall in line?" laughed Rory, absurdly. "Like hell. I'd kill a hundred Dominion soldiers before I joined them. Waste of skin and bone is all you are. Screw the Dominion, screw the mercenaries, screw all of you!"

The inevitable had come. All factions immediately stood up, flaring with anger, ready to do just about anything. Visors had fallen and rifles had been drawn. One marine finally decided to aim his gun. Bellows of surprise and anger rang through the room. The marines took a knee, carefully aiming their weapons at each other. Fingers rested on the trigger. A tiny movement would set off this bloodbath. Each marine had their laser sight pointed at another man's head and had one pointed at their own. It seems that none of them wanted to escalate this further, resorting to mere intimidation, but there were a lot of people here. It would only take one to blow this thing up. And the room was thick with tension, almost saturated to the point where you could chew through it. Beads of sweat fell down the faces of all Terrans, of the common species, who were determined to kill each other. Eyes darted back and forth between potential targets as each faction sized each other up, though for now, neither side made a move.

"STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU!" bellowed Raynor, walking across the room. "Lower your weapons now! I ain't gonna tolerate in-house fighting. This ends now! I said lower your weapons! What the hell do you think you guys are doing? There's a war out there and you guys are pointing guns at each other?"

"I lost friends and family on Meinhoff to these bastards. There's no way I'll ever accept them. Never! They killed everyone I knew. And you welcome them with open arms," growled Rory. "That Valerian deal you cut was just a hint to what came next. You sold us out, Raynor! You sold us out to every dirt bag in the sector we were supposed to be fighting. Well I ain't gonna play nice. I ain't gonna simply forget everything they did to us."

"This is bigger than you!" roared Jim, in all his might. His voice echoed across the golden hall. "It's bigger than all of us! All these groups of Terrans, all these allegiances, they're worthless now! Can't you see? There is no Dominion, no Kel-Morian Combine and no Umojan Protectorate! There's only us, terrans. We rallied together, under one banner to fight the zerg, as one! How the hell can we work together to beat back the zerg if we can't even get through a single meal together? Everything is at stake here, gentlemen. All your lives, your families, your loved ones, from wherever you may be from, they're all being jeopardized right now. Forget your loyalty to your government and start thinking about your devotion to your race! We're the same, god damn it! We eat, we sleep, we die. We can't be isolated into individual pockets anymore. If we're gonna bring down this unified zerg force, we gotta band together ourselves. Otherwise we ain't got a chance in hell!"

The adjutant's voice erupted out of a speaker and announced to all listening. Her blaring voice, while calm and resolved, spurred panic. "Commander, large enemy force detected, 4 miles out. Praetor Urun's Phoenix have been scrambled. All military branches have been placed on high alert."

"Damn it," panicked Raynor. "We're out of position! All of you, get back to your posts!"

The marines scattered. They barrelled through the doors, and quickly ran as fast as their mechanical feet could carry them, to the outskirts of town, where they began a defensive posture. Loud red sirens blared across the streets of Antioch. Protoss all around had become aware of the situation. Zealots were moving out to the front, followed by the slow immortals, and 2 Colossi.

Raynor ran out into the street where he found Matt. "Jesus, Matt," he panted. "They caught us with our pants down. We're not ready! That little argument made our defences a whole lot weaker. Scramble all aircraft! Get the all our fighters into the air and headed towards the zerg threat. Ground all large aircraft. I want a Colossus covering every major street! Establish contact with General Warfield. Tell his men to start making a secondary defensive wall around the inner city. I don't care how tired his men are, this is war!"

"Kerrigan, Zeratul and Nova just got back," said Matt over the siren. "I'll get them to the Observatory, in the center of the city!"

Raynor nodded. His combat suit shook with power as he prepared to join his men on the front. The sun, setting already, began to dim unnaturally. Raynor looked up and saw spines of deadly poison and sharpness, descending upon them.

"Incoming!" he bellowed. "Shields!"

"Shields!" repeated marines all over the city.

The terrans lifted up their M98 Ballistic Alloy Combat Shields above their heads and felt content as the barrage of hydralisk spines failed to pierce the hard surface. Without a second's rest, they continued setting up their ground defences while already, Praetor Urun as well as several Viking and wraith detachments had been activated to buy them more time. Still, they had so little time. Marines were scrambling around everywhere, lost of leadership, separated from their squadron, and utterly without direction.

And then, a large looming shadow covered the ground Raynor stood on. Both he and Matt looked to the sky and in horror, saw two friendly Battlecruisers floating above. Grabbing, Horner's long distance radio, Raynor frantically began relaying orders.

"Get that Battlecruiser away from the city!" he yelled. "If that thing goes down over top us, we're done for! Get another Viking team to intercept any potential threats to the Battlecruisers while they hauls ass out of here!"

The clever zerg, had already taken note, however. A coordinated attack wave had been launched upon the nearest Phoenix fighters. Queens and hydralisks had also partaken in the salvo. The twisted projectiles ripped through the Phoenix fighers, even damaging Praetor Urun's ship to the extent where he was forced to back away from the battle to rejuvenate his plasma shields. The volley had created an opening. Scourge, Mutalisks and Corruptors raced through. The group vastly picked up speed, separating from the ground forces. They punched their way through all the Terran and Protoss ships. Their numbers were so great that the Viking interceptors did little to hinder them. They had a clear target in mind, and they weren't going to be stopped.

Luck had run out, and Raynor found their position as one of the worst he had ever encountered. Every possible thing that could have gone wrong, had. His throat became sore of screams though he forced himself onward.

"Get to the buildings!" he yelled, desperately. "That Battlecruiser is going down! Take cover!"

The explosion above sent shockwaves down below. Many soldiers were knocked off their feet. Raynor grabbed Matt and they worked their way through a building, to get to the primary command post. Around them, hell broke loose. Wrecked metal of gigantic proportions tumbled to the earth. Huge pieces of steel were falling from the sky. Soldiers shouted desperately. Zealots quickly charged into the nearest buildings as the first wave of the battlecruiser wreckage hit Antioch. Carnage ensued. The cry of terran infantry was loud through all parts of the city. Entire teams were taken out by the crashing remains of a former warship. Colossi had been pulled back to save the firepower. However in doing so, they had left the primary terran and Protoss defences without support. Siege tank pilots wisely had moved back into the shelter of the building before the pieces began to fall. The halt of tank barrage allowed the ground force to advance much quicker without the threat of being blown apart.

The Yamato cannon of the former battlecruiser rained down on Antioch, smashing into the side of a building, which subsequently gave way. A marine desperately raised his shield. It did well against a Hydralisk attack, but it couldn't hold up an entire building. The formation had been broken. Marines, Marauders and medics had all broken formation and were trying to get out of the hell zone. The protoss forces that had taken cover in a nearby building, had been crushed as the building toppled onto another, which subsequently began falling. They were unorganized and in complete anarchy.

Cleverly however, Raynor and Artanis had agreed to only place a small portion of their forces on the streets of Antioch. The rest remained in relative safety, save for the hundred that had died upon the building collapse. But those under the veil of safety were reluctant to break it. In fact they were ordered not to. They stayed their weapons and sadly watched powerlessly as the fighting ensued, several dozen feet below.

The primary defence team was fighting for their lives. And the zerg hadn't even reached their walls yet. Prelate Mohandar had decided to move his Void Rays away from the city, attempting to flank the remaining zerg air fighters. Executor Selendis had pulled her carrier fleet behind the secondary defence line, further into the city. They had to be able to effectively protect the center of the city, even if the perimeter fell.

"Hierarch," growled Fenix. "I have 1000 strong. Let us wreck havoc upon these monsters."

"Hold fire," responded Artanis. "We must wait for the right time. Our forces below knew the risks. Maintain position and we will inform you when it is time to fight."

Fires were plentiful and deep pits enveloped the area. Every once in a while, a dismembered human limb would be noticed, though those alive could spare little thought towards the dead. They were fighting to avoid it. The remaining initial defence force leapt over the metal remains of the Battlecruiser. The second one had been critically damaged. It weakly attempted to move away, but its damage had become so much, it could hardly move at all. All men below were wary and proceeded to take a route far away from the remaining Battlecruiser. Zealots and Stalkers were much more careful, charging and blinking to the safety of buildings within seconds, not exposing themselves to the dangers of rogue terran metal. Small shards of metal from both ship and building continued to steadily rain down. The small fragments harmlessly deflected from the Immortal shields. The terran marines raised their shields above their heads as they regrouped. They were forced to step over the dead bodies of their fellow soldiers, and scavenge their ammunition for the gruesome battle to come.

A definite groan was heard overhead. Terrans and Protoss forces alike looked up. Several more loud noises were heard in the sky. The second Battlecruiser had lost engine power. Its structure strained and its energy levels thrusted at maximum to try and keep itself elevated, but the sheer weight of the huge ship was subservient to gravity. And it fell. The men looked at each other. This battle had already gone horribly wrong.

OOO

"Let's keep moving!" yelled Matt.

Behind him, towed Kerrigan, Nova and Zeratul, each with visible fatigue and scars. Matt led them through a Protoss tower, as they continued to make their way away from the fight and closer towards the safer center of the city. If they could get to the Observatory, they'd be safe there, at least for a while. The ground shook. The building itself seemed to bend slightly. The four heroes were knocked from their feet and got up more slowly.

"Come on," urged Matt. "We gotta keep moving. We're dead if we don't."

The Observatory had appeared in sight, behind the golden spires of Antioch. The group quickly ran past the photon cannons and underneath the legs of the mighty Colossi as they approached the stronghold. Matt left to venture to the command post, not before directing Nova and Kerrigan to infirmary. Nova was slowly moving with Kerrigan leaning on her. Shortly after they had reached the city, Sarah's legs had become too shaky to support herself. Nova didn't whisper a word of protest but trudged on with a fellow ghost weighing her down. They collapsed on an infirmary bed. The room around them was largely empty. Medics came and went out of the room, preparing for the massive amount of wounded that would flood their infirmary once reinforcements were deployed to relieve them.

"Great Zeratul," called an enigmatic Protoss soldier. "I have seven of our brethren with us. We are yours to command."

Zeratul nodded curtly and vanished with them.

Kerrigan looked around restlessly. She could see figures move in and out of the medical bay but she couldn't grasp specific people. She squinted hard but still she remained in the unknown. However hard she tried to stand up, she couldn't. Her legs had been shaking ever since her encounter with the Changeling.

"Where's Jim?" demanded Kerrigan. "Where is he? I need him now!"

"I don't know!" spoke Nova defensively. "C-calm down. I'll go find him."

Her leave brought the entrance of more medics, attracted to the noise. They closed in on her.

"Miss, please stay calm," spoke a Medic. "We're going to take care of you. Just stay still and calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" yelled Sarah. "Where's Jim? I need to see him! Let me see him!"

She had to see Jim. She had to see his face, battered, but untouched by the zerg and her rifle. She tried to think of him, tried to envision his face, but she couldn't. All she saw was a deformed purple man being thrown back by the bullet of her gun. She had to get it out of her head. She had to re-affirm Raynor's very existence to herself. She sweat vigorously and restlessly looked for him.

"Commander," called Matt. "I got bad news."

"More?" asked Raynor, unbelieving. "What happened?"

"The second Battlecruiser just went down in the eastern district," said Horner quietly. "It was the Zephyr sir. I checked the lists myself and General Warfield confirmed it was that Battlecruiser."

Raynor sank into his chair, pulling his head into his hands. He frustratingly hit the desk with force. "How the hell did we get into this mess?" he asked no one. "This just got a whole lot worse."

"Jimmy!" panted Nova, pushing her way past two guards. "Sarah needs to see you, right away!"

Raynor turned around, clearly relieved. He began making his way to her.

"Commander!" protested Horner. "Now is not the time for personal engagements! We have to focus on moving more forces to the frontlines, or dealing with the Zephyr."

"This'll only take a moment," Raynor assured.

"Get away!" yelled Kerrigan, pushing back the two medics, trying to sedate her.

"Sarah!" sighed Jim, moving towards her quickly. "Thank god."

Sarah quieted immediately. Rising slowly, she touched Jim's face and gazed into his eyes. Where first she saw the hatred from the copy, she now beheld only concern.

"Jim," she whispered.

Collapsing into his arms, Raynor delicately sat on the bed with her. Sarah wrapped her arms around Raynor's neck, unwilling to let go.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, gently.

She nodded, continuing to touch Raynor, to feel him. Her finger brushed over the center of his forehead, the very place where a bullet had once penetrated. She laid her head down on Raynor's shoulder.

"Commander," said Horner, firmly. "We need orders!"

Reluctantly, Raynor separated from Sarah. Her hurting eyes looked up at him, confused.

"No!" she cried. "Don't go! Don't leave me! I need you here with me!"

"I'm sorry, Sarah," murmured Jim. "But we got a battle to win. And I can't stay here with you when so many lives are depending on my orders. I don't know what happened to you, but we'll talk later, trust me. We'll make it through this."

He turned his back and ushered Nova to follow him. Kerrigan pleaded again, loudly for him to stay, but Raynor had bigger things to worry about. Sarah fell back down on the bed, in the same state she had just once been in.

"Listen closely, Nova," said Raynor. "I'm giving you a special assignment. A couple minutes ago, the Zephyr Battlecruiser went down in the city. That's the second one now. But this one is special. It's carrying four Apocalypse-class nuclear warheads. I don't need to tell you what will happen if they go off."

"Jesus!" breathed Nova. "Where is it?"

"It went down near in the Eastern district. I can't get into radio contact with any of our men near the area, they must have gone down when the ship hit. Those nukes are extremely volatile, Nova. All our observers in the area have gone down so I can't risk inserting forces by orbital drop, blindly. It wouldn't do any good anyway. I need you to get to the crash site and disarm the warheads. Only you can do this. You'll have to intricately navigate the arming board to disable the nukes."

"I'm on it Jimmy!" replied Nova, cloaking at once.

"Matt, we have to regroup our men," ordered Raynor. "Get in contact with the Jackson's Revenge. All ground forces on the ship are to prepare for immediate orbital insertion. I want all Medvacs and Ravens to launch immediately. Load up on auto turrets. I want a War Pigs detachment sent out to the Khas Towers to reinforce the tanks on top. It's risky enough putting them exposed on the roof. Coordinate our aircraft to rendezvous with Praetor Mohandar's forces and re-establish contact with the primary ground team. We need to hold the perimeter."

OOO

Medvac engines whined as they touched down. Great thuds were heard soon after. The auto-turrets had begun to drop from the Ravens. They established themselves at the corners of streets. Sandbags were being set up on the corners by the uninjured men. The injured hobbled weakly onboard the Medvacs as fresh troops had been brought to fight. Warnings were sent out as the men momentarily cleared the street. A barrage of metal descended upon them. It came from the Battlecruiser, but instead of carrying death, they carried reinforcements. Tucked away into the Orbital Drop Pod, many marauders, and marines had been sent down by the Jackson's revenge. They hit the ground softly before their sides dispersed and they crawled out of their respective pods to join the battle.

An explosion behind them caused many to cringe. The Thor blocking their way, had been consumed in flames by the handy work of a few well placed D-8 charges. Zealots stayed behind the marines. They would allow the zerg to come within range before they charged out. The Colossi had finally been redeployed. One stood over one corner team. They had taken residence on every block, testing their Thermal lances, heating them up for the coming battle. The Thors were all but useless. They couldn't operate in such narrow corridors and had to be pulled back to the city's center, where open spaces were more plentiful. The dead still littered the streets. Crushed Stalkers occasionally jerked up a leg though they had already been taken by the Khala. But Terran blood ran through the Protoss city. The damage by the Battlecruisers had been devastating. They had crushed over half of the initial defence force and taken down several filled buildings with them. They had levelled much of Antioch until piles of rubble is all that remained. And all on the ground eyed those piles of rubble closely. For soon, they would find zerg minions scrambling down the rubble, eager to rip them apart. All warriors thought the same idea. They hoped their leaders had a plan.

Fenix sadly gazed at the scene below. His heart went out to his beloved city. It had experienced too many battles, too many wars. Not one building in Antioch had remained untouched by the fighting that stretched across its thousand year history. The first and second battles of Antioch were nothing compared to this. This siege of Antioch had been already far more deadly than any previous attack the zerg had been able to conjure up. Though Fenix remained hopeful that at least, everywhere but here, the lands had emptied of the zerg. They had been forced to consolidate their forces to a single location, leaving the rest of Aiur bare. If the zerg were defeated here at Antioch, so too would they be vanquished from Aiur. Fenix would not let Antioch fall a third time, nor fall himself in its defence.

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**Author's Note: I feel the need to again emphasize the fact that this story is based on Starcraft 2 the GAME. While I might reference other sources of plot, the game has and always will be the primary basis of the plot. I will NOT alter a character using outside information unless it coincides with the character's actions in the game. Valerian is a clear example of this. He comes across as a less ruthless, but nevertheless power hungry individual, striving to replace his father and continue the dictatorial reign of the Dominion. Despite his benevolent past illustrated through other mediums, I will not change the character or else it would confuse those who only play the game and are not exposed to Valerian's past or pre-established character.**

**Now that that's aside, I must once again thank everyone for reading and especially thanking those who review. Please continue to do so. I very much appreciate them. Chapter 18 MIGHT be finished by the weekend so look for it. Thanks guys.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: It's been a while since I updated and I apologize for that. I've been a bit busy, but now I'm getting back into it. I strongly advise that you re-read the previous chapter if it's been a while. Please enjoy.

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"Nova has been busy," commented Valerian, taking a seat next to his father. "Full of audacity, this one."

"A trait that passed you by, much to my disappointment," grunted Mengsk. "She was one chromosome away from inheriting the throne. She'd have been a worthy successor – stubborn, ruthless and proficient."

Valerian fidgeted. "Her Spectre hunt had given her access classified material. She could have looked through any number of things: secret operations, confidential reports...familial connections."

"Even if your sister knew of us, she would pose no threat - not directly at least," confided Mengsk. "I know her more than she thinks. I know her more than she does. I give her purpose. I give her a reason to live. And she feeds on that. Not for a million credits would she part for it and that is why she will never be able to touch me. She may despise me. She may hate me. Yet she will do nothing because I provide that which Raynor can never offer. In a way, I suppose this is where you excel in comparison, my son. You are not crippled by the degenerative disease of neediness. You live for yourself, like I do. You rely on no one. You welcome help, yet are capable of standing alone if necessary. You do not need someone to validate your existence. Perhaps you will make an acceptable successor."

"I only wish to meet your expectations father," bowed the Prince. "I long to prove to you that I would make a fine Emperor and strengthen the Dominion. Nova is a traitor, and a dangerous one at that. Coupling her with Kerrigan will lead to a deadly force. Now you have 2 elite ghosts hunting you."

"Even they can't touch me here," said Mengsk, confidently. "The Odin incident happened by luck, not strategy. And Mrs. Han's new gift will prove daunting to any potential invaders."

"The Ion canon is still untested," started Valerian, uneasily. "We still don't know the extent of the damage it received on the Tarsonis orbital space platform. Raynor and the zerg must have done a number on it. It's a miracle it survived at all, let alone be salvaged."

"It will do its job," replied Arcturus. "And if it doesn't, well, I do look forward to our next family reunion."

OOO

A rain of metal poured on Antioch. They gently touched down and from their hatches, exited fresh batches of marines and marauders. Shimmering glows took on more defined features as the Protoss were also reinforcing their forces. The auto-turrets noisily rotated from side to side, trying to spot potential targets. Sandbags had been put up and though it was an oddity for the Protoss, the Terran force felt much safer, as they continued to entrench themselves. Their orders were displayed in their helmet, the red hue of it, touching the right cheek, each displaying the status: High Alert.

The photon cannons had begun powering up as they would lend extra support to the fight. Multiple MULE machines had also been called down to try and remove the wreckage of the two downed Battlecruisers. The Barracks were emptied. Every soldier in Raynor's disposal had been deployed. They gripped their rifles with nervous anticipation. The sun rose high over the city. The golden reflections graced their faces, granting them perhaps their last moment of serenity. And in silence, the forces of Protoss and Terran waited, for their moment of fame, or their impending doom.

"Hierarch," grunted Zeratul from far away, "the zerg have arrived. Their numbers rank in the thousands, at least. Prelate Mohandar did what he could, but I fear it did not have the significant impact in their numbers that we desired. Our primary defences are not ready. The set back was enormous and a gigantic tactical error."

"Purge all thoughts of doubt," said Artanis confidently. "An ominous force descends upon our great city. More time would have been greatly appreciated, but we do not have the luxury thinking that way. It comes down to this battle, my friend. We were surviving on Shakuras, but just. It is time to reclaim our fallen planet and forever rid it of the zerg. Every warrior, every attack, every action taken could determine our fate. Ready your warriors, Great Zeratul, we face the hardest battle of our lives."

"Hierarch!" exclaimed a nearby Templar. "The zerg have reached our perimeter defences!"

"Then let them taste the ferocity of the Protoss."

OOO

"Open fire!" screamed a commanding officer.

Rifles and grenade launchers were raised around the city, and launched their first rounds. The deafening sound roared through the city. The hydralisks led the charge as their fleshy bodies were ripped to shreds. Roaches moved forward, trying to soak up the damage while the frailer minions continued to follow safely behind them. Several towering Ultralisks crashed their way through a nearby building, discarding sharp fragments of the Protoss structure. Their blades were aching to tear through their enemies.

From behind the sandbags, the ground spilled with used ammunition casings. The discharging rounds echoed deafeningly throughout the streets. The visors concealed the true thoughts of the men. These were warriors, veterans of the Char assault, yet even now, they could not help but feel that this was a battle that could not be won. There would be no ancient artefact to save them this time. Stetmann had poked and prodded all he could, yet it seems that the artefact they had assembled had become inoperable. Its blue hue had dimmed and it seems it was meant to be for one moment alone. The men would have to rely on the courage of their fellow soldiers, the reliability of their rifles and the ingenuity of their commander.

Auto-turrets swerved loudly, their barrelling guns mowing down everything in sight. The siege tanks on the buildings continued to nip away at the heels of the zerg ranks. Limited Banshee gun runs had been authorized, so to not engage in a crossfire. The battle continued to be waged, as the zerg advanced under the gunfire and was within several hundred yards of the terran forces. Marines everywhere were beginning to doubt their tactical commander. Had this been his plan? Throw men at the zerg and hope for the best?

But their distrust was soon relieved.

"Spare none, defenders of Antioch!" roared Fenix.

The towering Protoss buildings, which were narrowly funnelling the zerg, exploded. The glass windows of the structures had been smashed and sent deadly shards of glass down upon the invaders. And from the buildings, emerged the Protoss. Stalkers of uncountable numbers appeared near the edge of the buildings. They rained down upon the zerg with their salvos of blue might. Several Immortals had also made their way to the edge of the building, where in relative safety, they blasted away at the roaches and Ultralisks from the high ground. And at the base of the buildings, cries of war were heard, as the mighty Zealots emerged from the buildings, onto the street. Screaming with their weapons of psionic intensity, the proud Protoss warriors converged on the zerg, effectively surrounding the zerg on every side.

Every street in the Northern sector experienced the same ordeal. Protoss forces were hammering the zerg from the sides as the terrans continued to fight them from the front and siege tanks prevented their retreat backwards. Finally, the tides were turning towards the defenders, and they fought with renewed intensity.

OOO

Nova heard it all. Radio chatter for reinforcements and more ammo drops crackled through her headset. Even so far away from the main front, she could still hear the echoing thunder of gunfire. But it was muffled through all the buildings and she continued her jog in relative silence. The terran forces near the Zephyr had already been vacated, leaving the area eerily empty. Nova cursed her luck as a dea-quiet Brood Lord appeared from behind one of the semi-destroyed buildings. It hadn't seen her yet.

Under the cloak, Nova nervously moved forward, silently as she had been taught. She took a knee and prepared her sniper round. She closed one eye, leaning the other into the magnifying scope. Her basic comprehension of zerg physiology gave her a general location of its brain.

A portion of a building, finally gave way, cracking, separating off from its body. The metallic remainder of the building struck Nova, in the shoulder, subsequently removing her cloak. The Brood Lord shrieked upon her realized presence. It sent its Broodlings for the kill. Nova swore and fired. Her shot had gone wide. The damn piece of metal had shaken her aim. Nova stood up and began to sprint away, making her way over the metal remains of buildings and ships. The Broodlings were fast on her tail. The small buggers would like nothing more than to rip her to shreds. Nova wasn't too keen of that so she kept moving, leaping difficulty over huge obstacles, yet the Brood Lord from the sky, was able to continue sending down more Broodlings, abandoning the former ones as they were to meet a slow painful death from by expiration.

A Broodling had latched onto Nova's heel. She shook it in an attempt to free herself, yet another one attached itself to her other heel. Several more nipped away at her boots until she tripped and hit the ground hard. She attempted in vain to beat off the small Broodlings, removing several from her leg and launching them away. She even attempted to smash some with the butt of her gun, but they kept coming.

Like an act of God, a lone Raven had been attracted to the noise. The pilot dropped an Auto-turret, which used its laser precision to remove the Broodling threat near Nova. She breathed a sigh of relief and readied another sniper round. The Brood Lord shocked by this new threat, decided to focus its Broodlings on the firing auto-turret. Nova took the chance to cleanly fire a round through the Brood Lord. It attempted to stay in the air, but ultimately, lost motor skills and crashed into the earth.

"Thanks for the assist, pilot," called Nova. "You saved my ass."

"Raynor sent me," responded the man from inside the ship. "He thought you could use a little help, but I doubt anyone is coming after me."

"Well I'll take all I can get," said Nova, switching her rifle back to regular ammunition. "The crash site is still about a click to the south. Let's get moving."

They made good time. From the air, the Raven could spot small pockets of zerg and Nova, with the advanced reconnaissance easily dealt with the minor threats. Dozens of blocks later, they met a new threat.

An Infestor exploded from the earth, its slug like body, oozing with green sludge. Nova raised her rifle. She'd sooner die than get coated by another wave of acidic slime. But the Infestor wisely ignored her. A slim tentacle rocketed from the Infestor's mouth and rushed past Nova's head, towards the sky. The Raven attempted evasive manoeuvres, but it wasn't fast enough. It latched on to the Raven controls, quickly prying them away from the pilot. He pounded his controls frustratingly but could do nothing.

A seeker missile launched from within the radar. Its familiar beep was heard by all three parties. It locked on to Nova, and raced towards her. Nova had subsequently killed the Infestor and released the Raven from its control, but the damage had been done. The deadly missile zoomed towards her at incredible speeds. Nova, once again, charged as much adrenaline as she could, into her legs, and took off running. She ran around corners, taking sharp turns, attempting to confuse and repel the missile's seeking ability, but the Dominion engineers had programmed it well. Nothing was shaking it. Nova even cloaked several times before realizing that the missile was being attracted to her body heat, not her visible image. Thus she had no cloak for that. Desperately, she looked for a solution. Her legs were already beginning to tire, the lactic acid already coursing through her limbs. Her lower body burned as she pushed her limits, running around, over and underneath rubble. The daunting beep of the rogue missile still sounded, pushing Nova on.

Finally, she spotted her salvation. A downed Thor stood in the middle of an empty city square. It looked completely inoperable and with irreparable weapon system damage, but none of that interested Nova. All she saw was the thick armour hide of the once intimidating war machine. Taking a particular wavy path to buy herself more time, Nova hopped inside the Thor, closing the hatch and doing what she could turn the machine. Its thickest armour stood in the back, shielding the huge guns in the back.

The missile struck the Thor hard. The explosion engulfed it, yet thankfully, it wasn't enough to destroy the already broken machine. It did, however, carry enough force to force the Thor off its balance and threw it face first into the dirt. Everything went black and Nova grabbed the emergency exit, freeing herself. At a bit slower pace, she continued to her objective, the Zephyr.

Finally the remains of the once glorious ship came into view. Its steaming remains devastated the nearby buildings, levelling some. Nova raced forward, entering the destroyed ship, making her way through the bloody halls. The warship was considerably smaller than the Hyperion. The ordinance supply was next to the bridge. Nova's curiosity got the better of her. The Zephyr was an old BattleCruiser, nearly as old as the Jackson's Revenge. Its computer database must have had information on old Confederate secrets, and even some current Dominion ones. From what Nova had picked up, despite its size, the Zephyr had been the capital ship for the Fourth Fleet –led by General Warfield – until of course, Valerian had decided to tag along with the pride of the Dominion, the Bucephalus. And Nova still had her excuse. If this ship was as old as she remembered, the nukes would not be updated with standard Dominion detonation codes. She'd have to pry them directly from the ship's database, assuming its systems were still functional. Though after witnessing the wrecked cruiser, Nova was surprised that anything worked at this point.

She entered the room, the doors reluctantly hissing open upon her presence. The crew had all vacated the bridge, apparently attempting to abandon ship. That didn't work out too well. At least it left the bridge free of bodies and empty for Nova's curious pleasure. But the nukes came first. A stir was heard behind Nova. The ghost turned her head and saw the ship's adjutant activating. It was missing the left portion of its face, but other than the superficial damage, it appeared to be operational.

"We have suffered terrible damage on all decks," announced the adjutant. "The captain made a grave tactical mistake, one which I will be reporting in the logs. Weapon systems are down. Vessel structure has been breached. Engines are offline. Utilities are offline. Life support is offline-"

"Adjutant, I need the deactivation codes for your nuclear armaments supply," said the ghost, impatiently.

"Warp drive has failed. Scans indicate no surviving crew members. Vespene reservoir is leaking. Damage to the vessel is beyond repair. Shall I initiate the self-destruct mechanism?"

"No, no no!" exclaimed Nova. "Adjutant, do not engage emergency self-destruct mechanisms! I need the codes for the Zephyr's nuclear warheads!"

"Very well," said the adjutant. "Activation and deactivation codes for class 9 weapons are strictly prohibited. Verification of your identity and credentials is necessary. Name please?"

"November Terra," said the blonde, immediately.

The adjutant's eyes flickered as she ran the name through the Dominion's military database. "Name is not listed in the database. Access denied."

"What?" asked Nova. "Check again, my name is November Terra, Agent 12-862 of the Terran Dominion's Ghost Program."

"There is no record of that name," replied the adjutant, in a monotone manner.

Nova sat down quietly. Raynor had entrusted her with disarming the weapons of mass destruction sitting in the middle of Antioch. She had gotten this far, behind enemy lines once more, and now that she was so close, she was unable. She hit her gun, angrily against the floor. She felt powerless when her rifle was not a possible solution to her current dilemma. And a thought occurred to her. She sat up quickly, the thoughts running through her head.

"November...Mengsk."

The adjutant paused. "Name found. Retina scans show authenticity. Atomic warhead disarm codes incoming: 44 Kilo 857 Hector D1. All warheads have been programmed with the same disarm code in cases of emergencies such as these. Shall I initiate disarmament tutorial?"

"Don't bother," muttered Nova. "I don't know what kind of ghost I'd be if I couldn't disarm a simple nuke. Adjutant, run a check for me. What is on my file?"

The mechanical lady's eyes flickered once more. "November Annabelle Mengsk. Child of current Terran Dominion Emperor: Arcturus Mengsk as of 14 hours ago. Listed as a student at the Tyrrador VIII University of Scientific Research. Rank is civilian. Only through direct descent of the leader of the Dominion have you been granted classified materials. Status: Prisoner of War. Captured by criminal James Raynor, leader of the terrorist Raynor's Raiders."

"Well, I guess he thought of everything," Nova continued to mutter. "But why? Adjutant! Pull up any communication logs between the Throne and the Zephyr. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"1 entry located," reported the adjutant. "1 log of 0:58 minutes between Emperor Arcturus Mengsk and...I am sorry, the other participant is no longer in my database. The signal originated from the Zephyr's laboratory wing and was received by the Throne on Korhal IV."

"Play it back," Nova ordered

The adjutant's eyes changed colour. _"As we've discussed previously, the risks are substantial," spoke an unknown voice. "But even after all of human history, the product of these...unusual relations are quiet often unpredictable and certainly a mystery. It is the one anomaly that continues to operate outside our understanding despite the fact that these relations have existed since the beginning of man. We are to expect several genetic deficiencies, some mutations and even a shortened life-span, though that will be hard to predict. However, if we keep trying and keep running more tests on the following products, I am confident we will eventually be able to secure a means to make a healthy product."_

_ "Very good," said the all too familiar voice of the Emperor._

_ "May I ask why you are doing this sir?" the man inquired. "We are all aware of Prince Valerian at this point. It seems as if another successor to the thrown would prove to be a...complication."_

_ "That boy will never sit on the thrown," laughed Mengsk. "I will keep him around for amusement, and perhaps minor advisement, but lacks nearly every quality I desire. I can probably thank that Umojan whore for that. No, what I need, is someone like me. I need Nova. But I'll be damned if the Dominion falls under the rule of a woman. They are so fickle and weak. I need a male successor and one that is every bit as cunning as I am. That is why I must do this. I can use Nova as a vessel to create a near perfect replica of myself. Nearly 100% Mengsk. Oh it is all I think about these days. I trust you have received my samples."_

_ "Yes, sir," said the man. "I have also prepared a Science Vessel, completely sterile and prepped for Miss Nova Terra's arrival. If there are problems with the first product, and I suspect there will be, she will be here for a long time. When is she to be expected again?"_

_ "After her next rotation," replied the Emperor. "Even with her Neural Inhibitors, she will most likely not take this well. Do what you must to restrain her, but no action is to be taken that could possibly affect the product. Nova always wanted to be acknowledged. She always wanted to know her purpose. We'll now I've given her one. She was born for this very reason. I've finally turned this curse into a blessing."_

Nova stood silently as the communication ended. A cold sweat broke across her body. She had never felt such rage, such hatred in her life. It sickened her to her stomach, and she gripped her weapon to the point of nearly losing circulation within her hand. She felt like throwing up and killing someone at the same time. She raised her rifle and fired at the adjutant, emptying every bullet she had, into the cursed robot. She screamed loudly as she did, pouring every curse she knew into a single cry of disgust and detestation.

"The sick bastard!" Nova screamed, her cry echoing in the empty halls. "I'll kill a thousand men if it brings me one step closer to him! I'll run through a million Fungal Growths if it means he dies! I'll make sure he rots in hell even if I have to go with him!"

Nova collapsed on the ground, shaking, weeping, cursing. Through all the mixed feelings she was receiving, one soared above the rest. That man would die. There would be no question of that. And Nova would be the one to deliver the bullet, first into his cold heart and then between his eyes. She'd burn his whole city, his whole planet to the ground if she had to. Nova no longer wanted Mengk's approval. She wanted his head.

OOO

"The first wave has been repelled," Fenix spoke to the rest of the Hierarchy. "The zerg are retreating for now. Our terran allies held their ground long enough for us to initiate our ambush. However, the same trick will not work twice. Even without the element of surprise, we should be able to hold the first line of defence against perhaps 2 or 3 more waves. At least until sunset, we stem the zerg from progressing further into the city. Though, the monsters are grotesquely powerful. I have ordered the evacuation of the Terran tanks, in case my confidence has been misplaced."

"Very good Fenix," said the Hierarch, seriously. "Your actions have made the Protoss proud. Hold your ground as long as you can. Once you feel that time has expired, I will be ready for immediate Mass Recall."

"Prelate Urun and I have retired our forces for the time being," announced Mohandar. "We will commence air raids once the sun has fallen and we can proceed under the cover of darkness. Observers shall accompany us to seek and destroy the burrowed fiends."

"Hierarch, we must speak," urged Zeratul.

"It must wait for now, Great Zeratul," said Artanis. "We have a battle to win."

"Any word from Nova, sir?" asked Horner.

"None so far," grunted Jim. "But I'm confidant she'll get the job done."

"If even one of those nukes goes off," started Matt Horner.

"I know," said Raynor, curtly. "It could level half of Antioch. But it's all up to her now. We need to deal with the battles we can control. General Warfield reports that the secondary defence line is up. We'll be prepared to fall back."

"Sacrificing ground already," sighed Selendis. "This battle is not nearly as glorious as we are capable of."

"Glorious?" demanded Horner. "This is war! We're fighting for our lives here, not putting on a show! We take any victory we can get, by no matter what means it is procured!"

"Easy Matt," warned Raynor. He switched his com to a channel between just the two of them. "Now isn't the time to be fighting between us. We saw how that worked out for us. The Protoss see battles different than we do. Let them keep their pride. It's about all they have left."

"The next wave has been spotted!" cried Fenix. "I must return to my post."

"Then may you and our brethren slay a thousand zerg before the Aiur sun falls," called Artanis.

OOO

Nova paced around the bridge, gripping her hair, muttering inane things to herself. But she was a ghost. And for Raynor's sake, she had to pull it together, at least until the mission was over. She still had someone who acknowledged her existence. And she wasn't about to repay him with failure. Less distressed, Nova exited the bridge, making her way over to the weapons supply. The door had been busted open, most likely from the crash. The lights flickered weakly as Nova found the warheads. She opened the control panel to the first nuke, imputing the necessary codes. Its lights died and Nova sighed in relief. Even an explosion could no longer force this nuke to detonate. She subsequently did it with the second and third weapons of mass destruction. She knelt down, content with her work. And then a shocking realization came to her. She turned on the lights on her suit, seeking as much light as she could muster. She desperately glanced over the toppled Viking gatling guns and between the many Gauss Rifles. She jumped on top of crates, trying to get a better vantage point, to gain visibility of the entire room. Her head twirled from side to side, but nothing calmed her mind. This was bad.

Where was the fourth nuke?

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait guys. Life's been pretty hectic. On top of that, I played Halo Reach. Holy Crap. If I ever complained about Starcraft 2's poor character development, I take it back. Halo Reach's minimal attempt at character development is so dishearteningly negligible that it is nearly comical. **

**I want to assure you guys that this story WILL be finished. I have the ending fully written so it'd be a waste to do nothing with it. However don't think that we're at or near the climax yet. We're definitely not. I still have a lot more writing to do, though thankfully with Heart of the Swarm's late release date, it should be finished before the expansion.**

**Please review guys. it's awesome to hear from you. Even if you hate it, please let me know. Next chapter incoming Friday or Saturday.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Sorry guys, I thought I had uploaded this last Friday**

"The might of the Dominion fleet proved too great for the monster on Tyrrador IX," spoke the Emperor. "Our brave soldiers quelled the threat on the damaged planet, providing security and relief to Tyrrador IX."

Applause was cut short by Mengsk, waving a large hand over the enthusiastic crowd.

"I'm afraid not all is well. During the transportation of the pacified creature, captured by our fine forces, we suffered an attack, one led by James Raynor."

Murmurs were heard from the press as busy Dominion journalist furiously typed away, breaking the story to Dominion worlds across the sector.

"The creature has escaped due to the terrorist attempts by James Raynor. They delivered it to Tyrrador III where I can only imagine the horrors it is inflicting. Rest assured, our fleet is already inbound, ready to provide security to our citizens. Alas...that was not the only loss today."

The media was on pins and needles, hanging on the Emperor's every word. Arcturus looked physically troubled, whipping sweat off his brow, and breaking away from his normally smooth discourse. After a small break, Arcturus Mengsk continued.

"As you all know, I have a child, Prince Valerian," announced Mengsk. "But...I have another."

Bright flashes of cameras went off immediately.

"My sweet daughter, November, was morally correct and lovely girl, wanting a simple life, and I granted her that," said Arcturus, softly. "I shielded her from the frenetic life of Dominion politics by hiding her existence, and allowed her to study at the Tyrador III University of Scientific Research. She was just a civilian...and by the reports I have been receiving...she has been...taken. Not by the zerg but by an internal enemy, the notorious criminal Raynor who seeks nothing but to hurt our fight for survival and cause disruption and chaos throughout the sector. His maliciousness knows no bounds! What man would sacrifice an entire colony for his own benefit? And what does he resort to? He kidnapped my poor daughter, defenceless, and is most likely brainwashing her to his anti-Dominion goals."

The press went into a frenzy. Immediately, many people rose from their chairs, charging at the Emperor with microphones. Questions exploded from everyone's mouth as Arcturus was being besieged with inquiries. His ghost bodyguards stayed close to him, in case an eager journalist got too close.

"My plan is simple, yet it requires the loyalty of all Dominion systems, planets and citizens. We have pushed back the zerg forces. You may have noticed the new Korhal defence platform that boasts the powerful Ion Cannon to deter any outer threats. Our numbers are greater than ever. The Second Great War is nearly over. We will soon be blessed with an era of peace and safety. But so long as Raynor's band of miscreants remains, this can never be. We will fully eradicate the zerg from the Sector. We will push back the Protoss so they never think of attacking another colony again. We will put down the terrorist Raynor...And I will save my daughter from his cold grasp."

Mengsk swiftly exited the podium, much to the dismay of enthusiastic journalists. He proceeded back to his throne where Valerian was waiting for him. Arcturus inwardly shook his head at his son. He would never become emperor. But Arcturus still had some use for him. His son approached him immediately.

"Was it entirely beneficial to announce that claim?" objected Valerian.

"Take note," replied the Emperor. "I just made this personal. I descended from a high position of power to having a stake in this war. I'm generating sympathy here, boy. No one will question my motives from this point forward. Nova has her uses still. And now, I've discredited any claims she will attempt to make. No one will bat an eye if they catch word of Nova fighting against me."

"What about the Hybrid?" asked Valerian. "How long will you terrorize the colonies with it?"

"The Hybrid will be killed once it has served its purpose," said Arcturus. "Tyraddor VIII was the pride of their entire system. I think a small attack on Tyrrador III should put the final nail in the coffin and make sure secession never crosses their minds again. And then perhaps we will move to the Sara system. We can put down the revolt there and remind the Kel-Morians of their territorial rights to Chau Sara."

"Your claim will still infuriate Nova," commented Valerian.

"I'm counting on it," grunted the Emperor.

He turned away from Valerian. _"I still need her, alive. My legacy must continue. And in her anger, she'll be led right to me."_

OOO

Men were falling everywhere. The zerg had come within striking distance and were tearing apart the defenders. The zealots were doing the best they could to protect their ranged counterparts, but there were simply so many zerg. They were being overwhelmed. At the very least, they had to hold out until sunset. At that point, they'd fall back. Holes punched through the gold visors of several marines. The soldiers' heads rocked back from the impact, and collapsed to their giant steel knees. A lone Hydralisk, darted out from a building. A marauder fired a single grenade, which the giant monster absorbed to much pain and rage. It cried out and launched itself towards the Marauder, whose suit was chambering a new round. But the Hydralisk snatched the Marauder off his feet, crushing his reinforced helmet with its gruesome mandibles. Two marines attempted to help, but the Hydralisk raised its scythe arms and struck at the men's midsection – the weakest point of their armour. The men were sliced in half; another 400 000 credits down the drain.

"Kill that thing now!" yelled a sergeant.

Most men, now running short on ammo, unshielded their bayonets, charging at the monstrosity. They cried bravely as they were cut down by the lone Hydralisk. The bodies were being tossed everywhere. Finally, a zealot stepped forward and using his decades of combat experience, he outmanoeuvred the beast, sinking a psi-blade into its thick carapace back. It squealed before the Protoss sunk his other arm into its head.

Next to them, an Ultralisk was weakly trying to get back to its feet as Immortal salvos had damaged its body so to cripple the gigantic zerg. Several more rounds crashed into the Ultralisk before it finally gave in and fell. Its hide crushed huge numbers of zerglings, still sprinting at the defensive line. Vikings in Assault Mode marched forward, spinning their twin Gatling guns and mowing down zerg threats. And there were plenty. No matter how many they killed, the zerg had five minions to replace every one they'd lost. Piles of corpses, from Protoss, Terran and Zerg, littered the streets as the once Golden City had succumbed to chaos.

A battalion of Firebats were unloaded from a Medvac. It took to the air once more, but fell prey to the destructive spines of the Hydralisks. Its engines whined desperately before it crashed. But at least its package had been delivered. The Firebats marched bravely to the frontlines, determined to halt a zergling push that had been wrecking hell on the defenders for nearly 2 hours. They ran as fast as their mechanical suits allowed, past their Marauder counterparts, who were using every round in their suit to kill, hurt, or merely slow the infinite enemy wave.

It was no different on any other street. The zerg filled all corners of the Northern sector. They weaved their forces through the intricate building layout, right into the well-fortified position of the first defensive line. But their numbers were so great, that even such a tactical disadvantage was being overcome. In the center of the city, the second line defenders painful listened to the cries of their comrades on the frontlines. They wanted nothing more than to aid them, but they knew it was their job to hold their position when the retreat order was finally issued. And they hoped it was soon. For every cry heard, a handful of soldiers was about to die.

OOO

Nova raced back to the bridge.

"Adjutant, run up cameras of the ordnance room in the past hour...adjutant?"

Nova peered over her shoulder and realized the one she was talking to had been previously peppered by bullets until nothing human was visible. Sighing at her own brashness, Nova went to the camera system itself and began manually pulling up the video. She carefully manoeuvred her thoughts away from Mengsk. If she was to stay on task, she'd have to keep her mind busy and away from him. At last, she broke through the security and gained insight into the ordnance room. She gasped at the sight.

Five drones had broken their way into the room, where they spent the next couple minutes, observing and fiddling with one of the nukes. They banged on it with their hard claws, but Nova knew such a piece of technology would not detonate with a mere whack. The drones had realized this as well. They grabbed the nuclear warhead with their strong claws and carried it out of the room, and presumably out of the Battlecruiser.

Nova's mind raced in panic. Where did they take it? Did it serve them any purpose? Could they use it? Regardless, Nova had to get in contact with Raynor. She tapped into the Battlecruiser's weak communications system, which was in shabby condition. But she managed to send a message through.

"Jimmy, I'm at the Zephyr!" reported Nova. "3 nukes have been secured. 1 is missing. It has been acquired by the zerg!"

"Repeat your last," ordered the commander.

"The zerg have possession of one of the four Apocalypse Nuclear Warheads!" said Nova again. "I got here too late. I saw drones haul it out of the ship. It's gone!"

"No," whispered Raynor, in shock. "This fight went from bad to worse."

Raynor stopped there and the line went silent. It was not a communication failure however. He had placed the radio down and sunk his head into his hands. This had been a catastrophe, right from the start. Positioned in the right place, that nuke could destroy the last chance they had at winning this war. He was the commander, the one they all looked up to for orders. Yet for the first time, Jim wished he wasn't. _He_ needed a commander. _He_ needed orders for he had none left to give. Raynor didn't know what to do.

"Sir" yelled Matt, who had heard it all. "What's our next step?"

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"I need orders!"

"Well I ain't got none to give anymore!" snapped Raynor. "Men are dying every second. It won't be long until our first line of defence gets overwhelmed. We lost 2 BattleCruisers and 4 Apocalypse class nukes, one of which is now in enemy possession! Damn it Matt, _you_ tell _me_ what to do! I can make hard decisions. But right now, I can't even think of a decision to make!"

"Jimmy," said Nova, into the radio. "We need to do something...anything. You were a leader long before you ever commanded an army. You knew how to lead long before you learned flanking manoeuvres. There's no advice you can tear out of a military handbook to help you with this one. No one can tell you what to do. But I need you to just _do_. No more thinking about it. Just do it."

The line was silent. Jim made up his mind. He sat up from his chair, immediately moving away from the tactical screen.

"Matt, you're the tactical commander now," Raynor said confidently. "I need a Dropship down here now. And I need my suit."

"Sir, this is not a good idea," protested Matt.

"It's not an idea," corrected Jim. "It's not even a plan. Forget the tactics, and the strategies, Matt. Forget the planned manoeuvres and the tactical advantage. It's about time we'd fight back with human instinctiveness. And my instinct is telling me I gotta be where the fight is. Every plan we have is falling to pieces. So the only reasonable plan to approach the enemy is without one. We'll send em' something they'll never expect."

"Something they'll never expect," repeated Horner. "And what is that exactly?"

Jim climbed into his armor, the power beginning to light up the suit. "I'll get back to you on that. Nova, get to the high ground and try and spot any Hatcheries. I'll be at your position soon."

"Glad to hear it, Jimmy," replied Nova.

A lifetime of having your own thoughts limited, had trained Nova's brain well. For now, she was able to completely block out the communication with Mengsk. The ghost grinned to herself as she made her way out of the Battlecruiser. The thought of a commander, not only entering the field, but doing so without the slightest plan was absurd to the highest degree. And then again, their situation was equally absurd. Here they were, exiled humans, millions of light years away from Earth, fighting alongside aliens on an alien planet against other aliens. Her whole life was absurd. As she scaled the stairs of an intact building, she promised herself, for this battle and beyond, she would translate this absurdity into victory.

OOO

Matt gazed at the battlefield. The sun was setting fast. The first defenders had already suffered huge losses to hold the zerg push into the inner city. Raynor might have opted to hold out longer, but Horner decided he could wait no longer. He only hoped he could convince the Protoss Hierarchy to follow his lead. Obviously, his voice didn't carry as much weight as Raynor's. Nevertheless, he felt all the death taking place in the streets and decided to contact the Protoss command.

"Hierarch, this is Matt Horner, current tactical commander," greeted the young man.

"Where is Raynor?" demanded the leader.

"He's directly participating in a...special operation," said Matt hastily. "I've taken control of our forces on the ground. And I think it is time to fall back."

"Yes, the Hierarchy have been contemplating this as well," said Artanis. "However, I believe it is imperative to stem the zerg –no matter how temporary – from reaching the inner city. This is why we created the First Defensive Batallion."

"Yes, but we created them with the knowledge that those forces would eventually fall back to the secondary defences," argued Horner. "The Second Batallion is ready, and it will hold out against the zerg, regardless of their numbers."

"The plan was to fall them back," agreed Artanis. "But as you can see, hardly anything is going as planned."

"Well I can't just sit here and watch the First Battalion get wiped out," stated Matt. "The sun's nearly gone. Under the cover of dark, we can initiate air raids to cover the ground lost by the first defenders. A tactical retreat is vital to our chances at winning this battle."

"Your mind is set I see," sighed Artanis. "It would do me no good to try and hold the first line with only my forces. We acknowledge your command, and will coordinate our forces similarly. Excuse me, I must go to the Mothership and begin preparations."

It was dusk out. And though the dark hid the defenders from the view of the zerg, it too hid the zerg from the view of the defenders. They decided to take a risk. And it turned into a nightmare. In the darkness of near zero visibility, lights flickered on. Beams of light shot out from the combat suits of the marines. The bright radiance of the zealot's psi-blades pushed away the darkness as the Protoss warriors re-activated their weapons. They pushed back the darkness, only to find the zerg waiting. They were only a couple feet away from them the entire time.

No one knew who was the first to fire, but all decided to follow his lead. The blaring sounds of discharging guns ripped through zerg ranks, as more and more visibility came back –the flashing of the gun barrels illuminating much of Antioch, and even more zerg. The zealots came forward, charging with their blades. But the darkness crept forward despite the attempts of the light. It seemed the darkness was infinite and their small lights did little to quell the threat. The zealots slashed and hacked their way forward. It was unimaginable. They couldn't even see what they were attacking. They fought only through the sense of touch, feeling the warm flesh of a zerg minion as their blades cut them down.

The ambush warriors did similarly. Though maintaining a veil of protection, they shared the visibility levels of those on the ground. And praying for the best, they unleashed mighty salvos, firing blindly downwards. The strikes, they hoped, were aimed far back down the street, so to minimize any friendly fire. Bayonets had been drawn. The marines were slashing down the zerg as much as they were firing on them. In fact, the ammunition reserves for most of the terran men, were dangerously low, as every shot had to count. It was impossible to find the ground, as the warriors were only stepping over yellow shells, discarded throughout the city. Pistols were soon drawn as the last means to fight the monstrous army. Soon, the terran army would have nothing left to fight the zerg with but their bare hands, much like General Warfield.

Word had spread quick that General Warfield had not only taken out a Hydralisks (a task no soldier would dream of accomplishing without armour support) but had done so with his bare hands. But the first defenders doubted they would share similar legendary stories. They glanced at their Protoss counterparts. They fought with unmatched intensity, though by now, most had been stripped of their psi generated plasma shields, and began to bleed. The Protoss warriors were also being worn down by every attack, unable to regenerate their there psionic power. Sooner or later, they'd lose the strength to power their suits at all. But until that time came, the Protoss fought for their land.

The sandbags set up, had been destroyed quickly. The temporary defence turrets had been taken out as well. The men stood in the open, without cover. It was a game of chance now. Who was lucky enough to not be the target of a Hydralisk spine? And who was ill-fated to cross paths with an Ultralisk? There was sufficient light to see a new zerg wave, with the likes of roaches, hydralisks and banelings, fast approaching the last of the defenders. The defenders cringed. This fight was likely their last. The ammo counters for most had reached zero. Psi-blades flickered weakly. But the zerg, they remained unrelenting, a savage force of raw power. They charged and prepared to make their last stand, to hold the zerg at bay. Maybe their brothers would have a better chance from their sacrifice. And as all their lives flashed before them, whether it was decades or centuries, the moment was ripped away from them.

Their world had been illuminated. Shrieks of terror and confusion echoed in the zerg ranks. Aqua balls of enigma had wrapped themselves around individual zerg minions, slowly but surely raising them dangerously high to the sky. Above the heads of all, countless Phoenix warships raced by, narrowly avoiding the high buildings and doing their best to let loose as many volleys as they could in the small space. The zerg were being shot out of the sky. After the initial shock had worn off, the defenders, both on the ground and above in the buildings, quickly reacted to their newfound opportunity.

"Strike them all down!" bellowed Fenix.

With what little strength and ammo they had left, the defenders raised their weapons to the sky and shot down every zerg they could see. Even some marines starving for ammo, had decided to bust open a shot up auto-turret and reclaim its precious ammunition. The gravitational beams had expired, and the balls of light disappeared, leaving the helpless remaining zerg to plummet back to the earth, with no chance of survival. The darkness attempted to claw its way back into Antioch, but the Protoss would not allow it. The slower, but massive Void Rays had appeared. Their bright prismatic cores blessed Antioch with a blue hue of light that illuminated most of the frontline.

For many, this newfound light was disheartening. For it revealed the largest and most dangerous of the zerg forces. A pair of Ultralisks bore down upon one of the streets. Zeratul dashed forward, slicing the heel of one. It stumbled, but continued its charge. Zeratul then stabbed all of its legs, forcing it to stop. Using his agility, the old Protoss warrior scaled the Ultralisk's wretched legs and over its monstrous hide until he reached its head. Driving his warp blade as deep as he could, into the beast, the defenders watched in awe as a single warrior had singlehandedly taken out the most feared of the zerg.

"Ground forces, focus down the Ultralisks!" bellowed Mohandar from his ship. "All aerial units engage that Omegalisk before it reaches our ranks!"

The gigantic zerg was over twice the size of any huge Ultralisk. Instead of weaving through the buildings, its raw muscle and strength allowed it to ram headfirst into a structure. The giant zerg toppled over the building with its size and charged, stepping over countless smaller minions. It cared little as its commanding Overlord had instructed it one task. Kill. Its hide was seared as the prismatic beams began to burn away the countless layers of armour, flesh and muscle. Mohandar spotted a golden Phoenix race by his ship.

"Admiral Urun!" called the Prelate. "My fleet will handle this undertaking. Your flight of Phoenix are best suited to clearing the smaller zerg."

"Your fleet will not slay the creature before it reaches our ground forces," noted Urun. "You will need my assistance."

"How?" questioned the Prelate. "The Omegalisk charges on the ground. Such a low elevation would be far too dangerous for any Phoenix to fly and engage at."

"Then I will raise it," growled the determined Praetor.

"It would take five Phoenix to raise an Ultralisk," countered Mohandar. "Your ship's technology will not handle it."

"Technology is nothing!" exclaimed Urun. "Spirit is everything! I _will_ raise this abomination! I have the strength to do so. I will find the power to do so, and find the power to protect my homeworld. Your thoughts of doubt are misplaced, dear Mohandar. I will raise this Omegalisk to the sky before I see it kill another soul."

Urun's Phoenix had come to a halt. It shined brightly, emanating a golden hue, even catching the attention of a few zerglings. A golden beam shot out, towards the Omegalisk. It stopped it in its tracks. But that was not enough. His ship groaned and Urun cried out, calling on every last morsel of strength left in his body. The ship was not limited to technology, but to the pilot's psionic potential. And Urun commanded an enormous amount. Every pilot in the sky watched in awe as a single tiny Phoenix slowly raised a monster, many times its size. The fleet of Phoenix wasted no time. They descended at safe levels and unleashed a rain of blue death. Their salvos wrecked havoc on the helpless zerg, who had finally begun to weaken. The Void Rays had fully charged their prisms and their beams grew even larger, and focused down the giant zerg creature. Urun was spent. The gravitational beam had dissipated, lowering the beast to the ground, still alive. Its mindset was one of blood as it resumed its charged, slowly however. Finally, the attacks had penetrated the creature's ugly hide. It toppled over, its body still moving from the momentum until it halted several feet away from the terrified defenders. The towering husk of the dead zerg was several stories high, even off its feet. The defenders were confident that the street had been permanently sealed from any future invaders.

"This is Prelate Urun," panted the tired zerg. "Street A-14 has been blocked off. All ground forces near the area are to move out and reinforce nearby streets."

Several moments later, tranquility found its way to the streets of Antioch. The last creature of the recent zerg wave had fallen. Exhausted, the defenders rested. The red screen on the heads up display of the marines' helmets, changed. The high alert status had shifted and the colour swapped red for yellow. And every man's eyes rested on their new orders. And they were relieved in both senses of the word. The display showed the word: RETREAT.

**Author's Note: So I received a message earlier this week from an outraged reader, extremely upset over the uncanny similarities between the 2 shot down BattleCruisers and the twin towers. I must admit, I intentionally drew parallels from that horrible incident to elicit a deeper sense of loss in my story. It was never my intention to offend anyone. I apologize if that is how it sounded.**

**The good thing about my update mistake is that the next chapter is written and ready. I'll space it out a little bit so the next update will be this coming Friday. Please review and enjoy!**


	20. Chapter 20

"Father, you called me?" asked Valerian.

"Come here, boy," spoke the Emperor, beckoning him over to the window. "Look at that fiend, Alex Bovick. He preaches of peace and a better Dominion under his leadership and he has the gall to do so at the steps of my throne! He's nothing but a snake, a sneaky politician who operates under the protection that I provide only to subvert my rule when it is most beneficial to him."

Arcturus took a deep breath. His eyes drifted away from the podium below and they rested on a building opposite. "Fortunately," he muttered, "there's a solution for that. If you truly aspire to be the Emperor one day, take note boy.

_CRACK_

The crowd below scattered, they were all screaming, running in terror. It was chaos as the Dominion guards quickly emerged onto the scene, preventing any civilians from taking refuge inside the Throne's walls. The civilian were forced to turn around and run down the streets of Korhal with their heads low, and voices screaming. Laying face down in a pool of blood was Alexander Bovick.

"Lesson 1: Political Discourse."

OOO

"I was wondering when you were going to arrive," muttered Nova. "I thought about taking a nap for a while, seeing as how you took your sweet time getting here."

"Don't be mad Nova. Those Medvac engines would have been way too loud. I had to hitch a ride back to the Jackson's Revenge then ride an orbital drop down here."

Raynor emerged from the metal pod next to Nova. His battered combat suit gave him at least an extra foot of height. What he held in his giant metal hands, was far more intimidating. The almost comically gigantic weapon forced the commander to grip it with both hands. The Mark XII Penetrator Rifle was a sight that Nova gasped at. Her deadly sniper rifle looked like a toy compared to this one.

"I told you I'd bring the big guns," Raynor joked. "Now let's get down to business. What did you find?"

"I spotted 2 outposts," remarked the ghost, immediately. "There's a hatchery with a couple of spore crawlers – nothing your sniper rifle shouldn't be able to handle. Now look at the other one. They already set up a damn Hive in the city. There's a Baneling nest and an Infestor pit. Jimmy, do we even have to do this? I mean, who knows if the zerg can even contemplate atoms let alone splitting them and harnessing them into state of the art weapons of mass destruction? We might just be wasting our time here."

"Well, we're not taking any chances Nova," said Raynor sternly. "That nuke has its decommissioning waiting for it, one way or another. We'll go for the Hive. I'll stay up here and give you cover. You gotta sneak down through the zerg lines and find your way into that Hive. Locate the nuke and deactivate it."

"Well I hope your aim is good," sighed Nova, preparing to descend the staircase. "Because if not, you'll have one pissed off ghost on your ass."

Raynor knelt down, placing his huge rifle on the floor, steadying his aim. His visor descended, showing the fierce outline of a skull amongst the golden brightness of the visor. Raynor's armour groaned slightly as his body uncomfortably laid on his stomach, waiting to provide sniper support to the brave blonde infiltrator. His thermal enhanced scope was activated and with it, the sharp laser sight.

There were a couple Overseers that Raynor had to take care of before Nova was to advance. He needed a distraction to pull the Overseers out of position. He grinned within his armour as he found one. The bright green Baneling nest sat right next to the Hive. Its organic ceiling was held up by a narrow spiny organ connecting it to the base. The commander swivelled his rifle until the red laser dot rested upon the thin support. The round was fired. It took seconds for the enormous bullet to reach its target. It ripped through the support like a hot knife in butter. With nothing to hold it up, the Baneling Nest ceiling collapsed onto the base. As soon as it hit, the hundreds of banelings sheltered within the Baneling Nest's base, were crushed, immediately discharging their explosive contents. An explosion of unparalleled proportions rocked the zerg outpost. The Baneling Nest was gone in an instant. The structure had been blown apart from the inside out. The devastating explosion of green intensity immediately sent the zerg in panic. Many burrowed underground, wanting to hide themselves from the invisible threat. The Overseers were immediately called away from their current position to help identify the threat. Needless to say, the Baneling Nest did huge damage. Even the powerful Hive was in such close proximity to the nest that the explosion tore a hole into the Hive's fleshy wall, thus securing an entrance for Nova. But she would have to hurry. The incredible regeneration speed of the zerg had already begun to take its effect and the hole was already closing little by little.

Raynor ejected the used bullet casing. It took tremendous effort from his part, not due to the weapon's mechanical failure, but rather the size of the casing itself. The shell of the Mk. 12 Penetrator round tumbled from the roof and smashed into the ground, encasing itself into its earth. Pushing with all his strength, Raynor chambered in a fresh round and his scope followed Nova's heat signature as she snuck silently through a pair of roaches, sprinting at the Hive. Nova had her tunnel vision set and failed to notice the spore crawler, moving its way across the outpost.

"Nova, deviate now!" ordered Raynor.

"I can make it," said Nova between her teeth. She sprinted at the Hive, believing she could get there before the spore crawler was within range.

She was very wrong. Even while not entrenched, the zerg creature detected the cloaked ghost and sent out a loud shrill.

"Damn it, Nova!" yelled the commander.

He fired another Mk. 12 Penetrator round into the center mass of the spore crawler. It exploded on impact and the bullet continued to journey, taking out a few zerglings in its path before punching a large hole in a nearby Protoss building. More Overseers were flying overhead to see the commotion. Nova, knowing detection was only a matter of time, decloaked. Her freed up energy allowed her to move more power into her legs. Her small power suit used the potential psi energy to channel more power into her suit's legs, increasing Nova's speed. She ducked under some Hydralisk spines, never breaking from her path. Around her, she heard the deafening cracks of Jimmy's rifle as he must have saved her dozens of times by now. Even an Ultralisk, directly in front of her path, exploded in a fleshy mess. Those big guns were not just for show. She continued to dodge and run towards the Hive.

Raynor saw his opportunity as a batch of Infestors had crawled out of their pit. Raynor held his breath. He could take them all out with one shot, and perhaps snipe the Infestation Pit as well. He fired. The slugs exploded in a single line, taking the Infestation Pit with it. And Raynor was shocked at what remained inside. The Infestation Pit's structure exploded. The broodlings within its walls scattered about aimlessly. But there was something at the center of the zerg structure. People in fact. 2 dozen terrified soldiers rested on the remains of the Infestation Pit, huddling together with their metal arms wrapped around their knees, rocking back and forth in a protective fetal position. All their training meant nothing now. The horrors they had witnessed were so great, even the strongest were reduced to petrified cowards.

"Raynor, I need support!" yelled Nova. "I've got zerg coming out of every hole around me!"

"I have to save those men," grimaced Raynor. "Make do with what you've got, Nova. You've proven to me that you can do just about anything under these circumstances."

"Jimmy!" protested Nova.

But Jimmy regretfully closed the line, opening a new one with the stranded marines, still presenting themselves in the most nonaggressive fashion to deter any zerg from finishing them off. "Soldiers, who is your commanding officer!" called the commander.

"Gone," replied a marine.

"Well then, I guess you just got promoted, son," said Raynor. "Pull you and your boys together. You gotta get out of here now! Head southwest. You might be able to regroup with the first defenders."

"But...Captain Gallow," whispered another marine.

"He's gone!" snapped Raynor. "You boys will share the same fate if you don't start hauling ass right now! You're soldiers, start acting like ones. Follow my orders and get the hell out of here. I'll cover your retreat, but you gotta go now!"

The group slowly got up and started moving. They soon gained speed until they were truly running for their lives. Raynor concentrated on the zerg around them, systematically removing them, sometimes several at a time. He glanced at the bottom of the building. Dozens of craters had been made by his used bullet casing ejections. Good thing he brought a lot. He continued to keep his eye on the men until it seemed the zerg had given up on them. They had a much more important target than a bunch of unarmed retreating marines.

Nova swore at Jim as she took heavy fire from all sides. She was playing a game of luck here. Without cover and without support, all the ghost could do is continue to sprint, hoping she'd luck out. Jimmy should have just put a bullet in her head. Abandoning her like this made her furious, though it only allowed more adrenaline to channel into her legs. Her rife was raised and she fired a few rounds off as she ran. Leaping over a slow Roach, she was almost at the Hive. A Mutalisk dove in for the attack, but realized it was out of range. Instead the winged beast fired its Glave wurm at a nearby Roach. The parasite killed the weak Roach instantly, but its journey did not stop there. It ricocheted off the zerg and struck Nova in the back.

Raynor was desperately looking for Nova, but there were so many heat signatures at this point, it was near impossible. He discarded his thermal sights, tossing them aside. To do so, he removed his eye from the scope and noticed a purple mat had spread across the floor. His eyes widened and he started to turn around.

OOO

"Good luck, terran warriors," spoke Fenix. "The last wave has been repelled. Make haste and you will reach our secondary perimeter before the zerg even lay monstrous eye on you."

As he was speaking, his body began to fade into bright blue light. His Protoss soldiers did the same. Almost as quick as lightning, they vanished into nothingness. They reappeared underneath the Shield of Aiur and were immediately greeted by medical aid. The terran force was not so lucky.

"Guess we're on our own, boys," muttered the major, the last CO from the first defenders battalion. "Let's get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time."

Dozens of outdated Vulture bikes zoomed towards them. Many men were hopeful that they were bringing transport for them but their optimism was soon crushed. The Vulture's raced past the first defender battalion. They were beginning to plant their spider minds across the city as the battalion retreated. The first defenders, numbering less than 200, had taken over 50% casualties by holding the zerg off for over 12 hours. Many were exhausted, operating on little to no sleep and most definitely a dwindling if not empty supply of ammunition. They began their march, which quickly escalated into a sprint. It was eerily quiet, except for the trotting of metal boots. Many soldiers looked behind their shoulders and gazed at their dead friends, bloodied, dismembered and brutalized. Visors had been shattered. Amour had been broken. And lives, had been lost. They had tried to collect as many dog tags as they could, but still many soldiers would remain stretched across the streets, their corpses abandoned to the next impending zerg attack.

A couple miles from their location, the second defensive battalion was waiting. Significantly better armed and equipped, the daunting force stood as the final stand for the Aiur. All their remaining forces, both Terran and Protoss had been marshalled. And they were prepared to hold the line, no matter the cost. There would be no retreat like the First Battalion. There would be no third battle group to fall back to. It came down to this. They had to hold the line. Siege tanks had already been placed on the high buildings. They had already done irreparable damage to the zerg ranks. Squads of marauders trotted around the defensive line as the tall Colossi elegantly moved over them with their slender legs. For the line to hold, their positioning would have to be absolutely perfect. Lights had been set up everywhere to fend off the darkness. But it was everywhere. And if they did not try their hardest, the darkness would consume them, and consume the planet once more.

"We should have sent air transport to evac the First Battalion," muttered Matthew Horner. "They've done far enough now. They risked their lives, fought their worth and went above the call of duty. The least we could do is honour their sacrifices by at least ensuring their safe return."

"We have not the resources," spoke Executor Selendis. "Your warriors fought tirelessly and bravely on the Primary line of defence. Their battle will never be forgotten in our history. But our Vespene reservoirs are draining. When we abandoned the Heavenly Mountain Pass, we lost our only supply of Vespene. We are operating only on what we have stored up. And to waste it on infantrymen, who have served their purpose, is noble but foolish. Our remaining supply shall be used to keep our fleets operational so they can better contribute to our last stand."

"Our chances have improved," noted Fenix. "Twice I have been charged with the defence of Antioch, yet never have I seen such a force mustered here today. Antioch will not fall a third time. Our city, our planet...our race has seen much failure, much defeat. Today we will correct every failing we have ever experienced. For once, we will be the victors here. I sense it."

"Confidence, if misplaced, can be dangerous," muttered Zeratul. "We witnessed firsthand the foes that bear down on us. They have developed new and more potent strains. They've already pushed back our forces within 12 hours. And they struck down two terran ships, the importance of which required Honourable Raynor's direct intervention."

"You doubt our chances?" asked Mohandar.

"I...my judgement is biased," said Zeratul. "This scene, I have witnessed this once before. Instead of the capital of Aiur, Antioch, my vision saw our forces clash at the capital of Shakuras in Talematros. We mustered defences as strong as these, and warriors as plentiful and stalwart as these, but we lost still."

Zeratul neglected to mention the Hybrids. He had so much to tell Artanis, yet the battle came first.

"Stay hopeful, my friend," said the Hierarch. "In little over a week, we regained control of our capital, raised the largest army in Protoss history, and Tenacity is key here! Our terran allies did not achieve their victories through advanced technology-" Mohandar scoffed "...or physical strength, but their resolve is what carried them through. My brothers, no matter what enemy we face, no matter the losses we receive, we will continue to fight until the end. If in the history of sentient races, we are to be remembered, this is how the universe will remember us as: Brave warriors who fought for their home against all odds!"

"My fleet is ready," reported Selendis.

"Mine and Prelate Mohandar's takes to the skies as we speak," said Urun.

"I and Zeratul shall organize our forces to reinforce the Second Batalllion," spoke Fenix. "And we will scour our planet of the zerg."

OOO

Her chance had come. She had holed herself up in the small corner of the medical wing. She closed her eyes and ears, trying to escape her surroundings. But it was not enough. She had long since realized only one thing could truly relieve her. And she saw her opportunity. A lone marine marched forward, escorted by a medic. His arm looked badly scarred, most likely from a zergling. She could stand it no longer. Standing up, she quickly made her way over to the pair.

"I need a stim," said Kerrigan, quietly.

The medic dismissed her and attempted to move her patient around her, but Kerrigan stood in her path. Her heart rate was racing blood through her system. Her breathing had quickened and every muscle in her body stood ready.

"Give me a stim," said Kerrigan, more testily.

"I am your attending physician and I am ordering you back to your bed, soldier," responded the medic tersely.

Kerrigan didn't know what came over her. The fear and the anxiety were too much. Her finger twitched, and her body followed suit, moving into action as years of training were being put to motion. The ghost raised a leg and sharply kicked the Medic in the torso, causing her to topple back over some crates of medical supply. She turned to the marine quickly, but found herself staring down the barrel of the gun. The soldier wasn't as hurt as she had originally thought.

"Miss, I urge you to calm down," warned the marine. "Wounded or not, I can still put you down if I have to. And I'd rather not so let's just take a moment here and-"

"Baneling drop!" bellowed a soldier outside the tent.

The marine tore his vision away from Sarah. The blast shook the floor. In an instant, Sarah raised her leg and kicked the weapon out of the soldier's hand. It slid far away. Before the marine could act, Sarah struck. Landing one punch to the chin, breaking the marine's jaw, Kerrigan withdrew another hand, striking him in the temple. The marine was tougher than she thought. He was dazed but still conscious after the last punch. Panicking, she kicked him in the midsection, causing him to lose balance and fall on his back. Disorientated, the marine was slow to react when Kerrigan raised his visor and ripped out some of the stimpacks housed in his helmet.

And it was all over in 5 seconds. Kerrigan quietly stood with the injections in her hand. It had happened so fast. She didn't realize what she had done until she saw the medic sprawled behind the crates, or the marine on his back, glaring at her unable to speak because of his broken jaw. How would she explain this? How would Jim handle this? She heard noise outside the tent. People were coming in. Panicking, Kerrigan darted out of the tent and she ran.


	21. Chapter 21

Struggling, Nova was crawling on her stomach, grabbing the earth –or creep as it were- and pulling herself forward. Her back ached. The parasite burned almost as much as the Fungal Growth. Winded, and hurt, the blonde struggled to get to her feet. She heard the clamouring of zerg minions behind her. Her only focus was the shrinking hole of the Hive. She had to get there in time. Its regenerative capabilities proved to be once again, amazing. Nova could see the hole closing. She laughed to herself as the only way of saving herself from the zerg was to venture deeper into the zerg Hive itself. Pulling herself to her feet with much pain, she regained her footing and was feet from opening. She dove in, tucking her legs and allowing her body to glide through the small hole. Her foot barely made it through before the regeneration had completed and the Hive's structural weakness had been corrected.

Panting, she used her rifle to raise herself to her feet once more. She gazed at her surroundings. The hive was more of a cave. Its organic walls moved outward and inward as if it was breathing. Some fluid –Nova shuddered to think what it was – dripped from the roof. The entire complex was a maze of tunnels. The walls were alive. Embedded inside of them were tiny organisms. Nova peered and saw what it was. There nestled inside the walls of the Hive, was the backbone of the zerg might, that which was the source of their strength and power. A small frail larva floated harmlessly inside of the tunnel's walls. Its maturation was nigh and Nova still couldn't believe that such a small slug could soon manifest itself into an Ultralisk. Wasting no more time, she continued down the tunnel, hoping Jimmy had a good reason for abandoning her. And on the roof of a nearby building, one would say Raynor definitely had a worthy excuse.

"Gah," cried the commander.

How the hell did a Queen get on top of his position? Raynor spotted the nearby remnants of a zerg sac and it answered his question. Now on his back, Raynor dodged the Queen's two claws which embedded themselves into the roof's floor. Desperately, Raynor latched onto them with his large metal hands, hoping to disable the zerg's attacks. The Queen opened its ugly mouth and launched a single spine. Raynor couldn't dodge it. It clipped him right below the arm. But the commander didn't feel a thing. He could only focus on the Queen, who was preparing to make a more accurate shot. Suddenly, the Queen screamed in agony. Her back was being seared by flames. She turned around swiftly to face the attack.

Taking the opportunity, Raynor shakily raised himself to his feet. He quickly grabbed his Mark XII Penetrator Rifle from the ground. In a split second, he fired at point blank range. The shot, having so little flight time, carried such inertia to obliterate the Queen on spot. It was blown apart in a gooey mess. It was a move of desperation and Raynor did not take the proper procedures to compensate for the intense recoil. The butt of the rifle rocked back and smashed into his shoulder, throwing him back. He was too close to the edge of the building. He lost his footing, tumbling from the roof. Stretching out one hand, he managed to grip the edge, his metal claw like fingers digging into the weakened surface. He hung on to the building with one hand. The other swayed as it was struggling to carry the weight of the giant rifle. He couldn't pull himself up with the increased weight of the Penetrator Rifle yet he couldn't provide sniper support to Nova if he lost the rifle. His grip was slipping. The surface had begun to crack under the weight of Raynor and his rifle.

Something grabbed his arm. It was a metallic limb, not a hand though. Instead it looked more like a claw.

"I gotcha Cowboy," grunted his saviour.

OOO

"Ultra inbound!" screamed a soldier.

Two men had been savagely cleaved in two by the monster's blades. The rest of the men were sprinting far past their suit's capacity. Not daring to look back, the men in metal had even thrown aside their empty rifles as it weighed them down. Running on nothing but fear, the battle hardened soldiers prayed for their lives. The ground felt strange underneath the First Battalion's feet. The earth was loose. They scurried away from the giant Ultralisk as it continued to pick off the slow men, leaving those alive to quicken their pace. A clear path lay in front of them. If they could keep in front of the Ultralisk, they'd be home free. In their panic, several men slipped. Years of training with the enlarged combat suit boots went down the drain as they fell to their stomachs, closing their eyes awaiting death from crushing hoof or vicious blade. Nobody spared the fallen a second glance or a second thought. Those who did had already died. There was no time for thinking, no time to stop and mourn. They had to get to the Second defensive line.

General Warfield was watching the whole ordeal as the remnants of the First Battalion limped closer and closer to his position. His arm made a fist and he made sure to transform his mechanical arm back into a claw less he accidentally discharge a round in his anger. He looked at those around him. They were armed to the teeth, and ready for combat, yet there were so few of them. So many men had been pulled off this section of the line to make room for the retreating First Battalion. They hadn't anticipated they'd be intercepted with the likes of an Ultralisk.

As General Warfield watched the scene from a nearby building's window, he desperately prayed for the men. The General was not a religious man whatsoever. In fact, many would say he had a God complex himself. And even Horace Warfield could not explain how he felt or why. These weren't his men. They weren't the troops he trained, bled and fought with. Most of the remaining First Battalion were Umojan combatants. And yet, Warfield felt distinct distress over what he had to do to ensure the line was held. These men had sacrificed it all and fought harder than any Warfield had seen before. They'd given it their all and their payoff was a promised exfiltration. And after all their sacrifices, Warfield couldn't even offer them that. They were so close to the line, even if they didn't know it. Safety was within their grasp and Warfield cursed himself as he was the one who had to rip it away from them.

"The Ultralisk is right on top of us, sir," noted a lieutenant. "We can't let it breach the perimeter."

"Raise the line!" bellowed Warfield.

Through the chaos of war, genuine shock rose to the forefront of the First Battalion's minds. The ground was rising. Loose earth fell away to reveal steel walls. The men above watched as the line of supply depots sprung from the earth, sealing off the street. The line of retreating marines was cut in half. A hundred, maybe, that's how many made it through. The rest looked in horror as they were trapped by the raised defences of the Secondary Defensive Line. They cried and pounded on the structure, but to no avail. Slowly, they turned around. None knew whether the zerg could feel emotions. If they could, then this Ultralisk was in a state of elation.

Several miles away, 2 squadrons of Banshees had been scrambled. Rallying quickly, they flew low, navigating their way through the still standing Protoss spires. Their engines screamed as they were pushing the machine's limits. Each pilot's trigger fingers were itching, awaiting the release of their hellish Backlash rockets.

"General, this is Task Force Charlie. Sit tight, we're inbound and hot."

The target was spotted. Immediately, safety mechanisms had been disengaged. The pilots locked on to the target's location and immediately squeezed their triggers. A dozen missiles launched themselves from the Banshees' core, soaring loudly through the air, finally smashing into the Ultralisk's hide. It toppled back from the devastation it was receiving. More and more rain of shrapnel and carnage descended upon the beast until it finally gave in and fell on its side, dead.

General Warfield raised no voice to congratulate Task Force Charlie. It was no victory. The smoke had cleared and near the Ultralisk's smoking remains, near a hundred men laid dead at its feet. Some were lucky enough to remain intact in death, while most had been savagely torn to pieces by the damned creature. They had all died a senseless death. So close to the end they could touch it, now they remained face down in the dirt, with nothing but the comfort of the afterlife to soothe them. And it mattered little to them. They were spies, scoundrels, criminals and murderers. But they were soldiers nonetheless and died a soldier's death. Warfield realized something while sadly gazing at the pitiful remains of the First Battalion. It wasn't the Dominion he loved. It was not the Dominion he was loyal to. It was the soldiers. He didn't bat an eye when Mengsk requested his re-activation. But upon hearing the devastating losses the Dominion Armed Forces were taking, that is when Horace Warfield was spurred back to battle. Maybe Raynor was right. He witnessed one hundred men die. It didn't matter whether they were Umojan, Kel-Morian, or god damned mercenaries. Warfield would have given anything to save them. But instead he condemned them.

"This is General Warfield," spoke the veteran into his radio. "The First Battalion has been brought behind our lines...what's left of them anyways. The second line of defence is secure. Requesting immediate re-supply and reinforcements as well as medical aid and care for the survivors. I need a couple MULES brought down to clear the wreckage and we should be back up to full strength."

"Acknowledged, General," replied a communications officer.

He relayed the message to Matt Horner, who quickly approved Warfield's request. Horner had bigger things to deal with. He turned back on his communications with Jackson's Revenge.

"Repeat your last," demanded Horner.

"We lost the skipper," yelled a man. "As first mate, I'm assuming control of the ship. Major hull damage has been suffered. Boarding parties have gotten aboard the ship. We have minimal security forces onboard. The bulk of our security personnel was sent groundside! The zerg flyers are tearing us apart! All smaller frigates have gone down. It's just us, the Galapagos and the Ardent. We need immediate support!"

"I hear you," responded Horner. "Task Force Alpha has been recalled to your location. I'll send up three of the big guns as well. Rerouting the Wallace, Pinnacle and the Hades now. Hang in there. We're coming."

"One more thing! Before our tracking systems went down, we spotted a massive cluster of sacs entering the atmosphere. It's a safe bet their heading for you guys. We'll wait for the rendez-"

The line went dead. Matt severely hoped it was a communications failure not a lack of receiving partner. It seems the Jackson's Revenge had lost yet another captain. How many was it now? Horner had lost track. If the airboys didn't do their job right, soon, the Jackson's Revenge would lose another captain as well. He was nearly overwhelmed with all that was happening. They were fighting on so many fronts right now. He had yet to hear back from Raynor and suffice to say, the second in command was getting worried. And then he saw what was sure to be his end.

A cloud, one so small and seemingly insignificant, had formed, unnatural in appearance and colour. It descended rather quickly, acting like no cloud before it. It's purplish texture as well as characteristic structural designs, clued Matt in as to what they were. The infiltration sacs descended quickly, bypassing their ground defences and infiltrating straight into their stronghold. Matthew didn't want to imagine what was nestled inside the sacs. He didn't realize how close they were until the sacs crash landed at the foot of the Antioch Observatory, the heart of the Defence command. He peered out the window. Flaps of flesh broke off from the sac and a small zergling appeared through the hole. It was quickly followed by 8 more of its kind. And sacs all around it were beginning to deploy similar payloads.

"Lock off the Observatory walls!" yelled Matt, quickly. "Seal the doors and secure the walls. I want all security personnel on Alert Level 1. This is a Code Red situation! Command is under attack. Release the Predators!"

In a nearby building, incessant beating was heard. Dozens of figures, resembling large fierce felines, bashed their skulls against their cage restraints. Their titanium frame however, separated these fierce creatures from the native Bengalaas. Often referred to by Stettman as his greatest invention, his pride was soon crushed. The young brilliant scientist had used zerg DNA and researches conducted on it, to create the Predator, a weapon just as fierce and deadly as the zerg. But one miscalculation had been made. The Predator not only replicated the zerg's combat proficiency, but their rage as well. After a single deployment on the streets of Tyrrador VIII, Raynor had deemed them too dangerous to be used. They simply couldn't control the beasts. Nothing seemed to pacify them. The zerg influence repelled the override commands but the newly invented Psi Disrupter had no effect since they were still mechanical.

This was an act of desperation and everyone knew it. The cage doors released, their heavy frames collapsing on the cold hard floor. Snarling, the Predators dashed from their prisons and pushed out at blinding speeds, from the building holding them captive. They spotted the enemy. It didn't matter if it was zerg or not. Everyone was the enemy in their eyes and all they saw now were the massing zerglings. The smaller zerg minions had also taken notice. In a unifying movement, they stopped their ascent up the Observatory. Instead they matched the Predators' speed, racing towards each other in a match of Terran ingenuity versus the Zerg's natural power.

So desperate for blood, showing more signs of zerg behaviour than machine, the Predators ignored their instinctive initiative to activate their Lightning Fields. Instead they savagely crashed into the zerglings, ripping them apart with their titanium claws, only activating the electric blast, once they had satisfied their initial bloodlust. A colossal battle was happening at the foot of the Observatory and none of the Second Battalion was stupid enough to try to enter the battle themselves. They'd be torn apart by both parties. Instead, they watched and waited.

The predators were winning. Though numbering in less than 50, it took over 10 zerglings to bring down the fierce metallic beast, as it would continue to fight, regardless of sustained injuries. The zerglings were be decimated by the Predators. Moments passed before the last zergling had perished and all the sacs had been taken care of. Over half the Predators remained. They turned their attention now to the Second Battalion, who's members had ventured dangerously close to watch the feline battle. One Predator took one step towards the group of soldiers and that was one too many. Several ghosts appeared, forming a thin circle around the Predators. They fired their Electro Magnetic Pulse Rounds which discharged over the rogue mechanical beasts, de-activating them. They collapsed, almost as if sleeping.

Regardless of their seemingly harmless appearance, SCVs swarmed the area immediately, dragging the Predators back to their cages before their systems came back online. Matt sighed in relief. He had thought that their defences would have been impossible to penetrate. He had focused so much attention on the dreaded Nydus Network. Their saving grace had been the solid plate of still-rich minerals that Antioch rested above. The Nydus Worms would be completely ineffective in their attempt to reach the surface. But Matt hadn't counted on the use of zerg sacs to bypass their defences. In fact he hadn't anticipated a lot of things. He didn't anticipate the 2 BattleCruisers being taken out over the city, or the nuke that went missing, or the large-scale orbital battle that was taking place in the space over Aiur. After this, nothing the zerg did would be able to surprise him.

OOO

Her title was extended beyond rank. It was truly a testimony of her skill. Nova, so utterly quiet, continued her trek into the heart of the Hive. She had finally reached an opening. The walls shook violently, every now and again. She supposed there would be zerg search parties scouring the tunnels for her, yet its size worked to her advantage. She was able to sneak around the search parties and anticipate their search patterns. Her jaw dropped when she finally found the nuke. Covered in bio-mass, it was hard to distinguish from any other carpet of creep but Nova had been trained well. Getting closer, she saw 2 drones, continuing to beat at the warhead's outer shell. A clever queen and an Infestor were there as well. The Infestor's tentacle prodded around the warhead, trying to find an entrance to establish a footing. The Queen, the cleverest of the zerg, also rested nearby, a complex thought process going through its mind. It must have been trying to overcome this technological barrier to use this weapon of mass destruction.

Nova would not let the zerg access the nuke, not even for a second. Within moments of contact, the zerg would have knowledge of terran technological structure and bypasses. With the knowledge of decrypting the most secure of Terran weaponry, they'd easily be able to commandeer even a BattleCruiser. She raised her rifle, taking more time to steady her aim because of her wounds. The rifle was knocked out of her hands before she could squeeze the trigger. Something smashed into her injured back, sending her flying. She cried in pain, as both it and her failing cloaking revealed herself to the zerg. She made contact with the ground again, hard. Gripping her back in agony, she turned around, catching a glimpse of the Infestor and Queen, quickly scurrying away. By now, they had become the most precious minions at the outpost. But she tore her attention away from them and to her attacker.

A purple monstrosity stood before her. It stood on four bony limbs, and wielded an additional two arms with a human-looking head. She caught glimpse of a small dangling object around its neck. It stated: Captain Gallow. There was nothing human left of him now. It stood at three times his height. Stettman had once called them Aberrations. Nova couldn't hope to cure him with Dr. Hanson's limited technique, but would resort to the good ol' fashioned bullet to do the trick. However she still remained in the quagmire of being disarmed in the face of a dangerous foe. She saw her rifle, already being swallowed by the creep like quicksand. No doubt, the zerg would be gaining insight into more Terran technology by the absorption of her C-10 Canister Rifle.

She pulled out a small handgun, much smaller than the standard issue marine pistol. Its small rounds didn't even cause the Aberration to flinch. She painfully got back to her feet and attempted to flee, but the Aberration threw down a spiny limb, blocking her path. She was cornered with nowhere to run. At her feet, several larvae gathered, waiting to absorb her genetic material. She couldn't end like this. She couldn't share the same fate as Kerrigan. Nova had seen what it had done to her and the blonde was unsure if she would have been strong enough to maintain her sanity like Sarah had done.

She pushed back the Aberration with a blast of psionic energy though the monstrosity was only pushed back a few feet at most. She had played her last card. She had nothing else to fight back with, save her hands. The Aberration launched itself towards her suddenly and used its bony limbs to pin her against the fleshy wall. Immediately, the wall _moved_. It tried to envelop her whole body. Nova fought back, terrified. Was she about to be absorbed as well? The Aberration was a force to be reckoned with however. The process was not instantaneous but Nova felt the wall sucking her in, little by little. She glared defiantly at the beast which only returned her stare with apt savageness.

A loud crack made Nova jump with shock. The Aberration's head rolled off with enough force to carry it half way across Antioch. It stood still for a few seconds, before a chain reaction began in the rest of its body. Its purple hide loss its texture, paling to a sickly white shade, before exploding suddenly, first its upper body, and then followed by its lower counterpart.

Nova ripped her arms away from the grip of the creature and covered her face as all sorts of unknown liquids expelled everywhere. Exhausted, she dropped to her knees panting. Through the muck and blood, she saw the dogtags, lying harmlessly. She reached down and pocketed the metallic object. Something stirred near her. She turned to her side, to see an Infestor getting ready to launch a wave of Fungal Growth on top of her. Another crack was heard. It too sent the entire body flying until it hit the wall with a collision that blew it apart. Yet another stir. Nova turned around and saw a Queen charging at her. But with another loud crack, the Queen fell over dead.

"I got you covered Nova," she heard the commander grunt. "Now hurry up and disable that nuke."

"Sir!" she replied sternly.

She made her way over to the nuke. She had to scrape off the fleshy earth of the Hive which had swallowed nearly half of the missile. She looked at the Hive's interior. The rifle had left gargantuan holes in their paths. Crimson blood was spurting out of the structure's wounds and the Hive itself was emitting a low groan, almost as if it was in pain. Turning her thoughts back to the task at hand, Nova reached into the nuke's arming device and got to work.

"Kill codes uploaded," she reported, a few seconds later. "We're done here."

She heard another crack. A gooey bump beside her exploded and the inertia sent her flying backwards.

"Jimmy!" she cried. "What the hell! That almost killed me!"

Several hundred feet from her, on the roof of a standing building, Raynor felt his body go numb. His finger had pulled the trigger without his consent. He felt his nervous system shutting down as he couldn't even stay in a crouched stance. His position slackened and he fell on his side, feeling the unconsciousness desperately clawing at his mind. And he couldn't imagine why, until he saw the small wound at his side where the Queen's spine had penetrated. With a curse, his eyes rolled back.

"Cowboy!" exclaimed Rory Swann, running back to him after dealing with the Queen's body. He shook Raynor hard and soon noticed the wound as well. "Girl, get your ass back here right now, we've got a problem!" he yelled into Raynor's com.

"This is Swann," he shouted into his radio. "Requesting immediate evacuation and medical aid on my location. Commander is down, repeat commander is down."


	22. Chapter 22

It felt like she was running for hours. The stim worked its magic. She did not tire or falter once, but continued to dash across the safe zone of Antioch. She could barely see anything in front of her and hadn't a clue where she was headed, but she would not let them find her. Sarah went over the scene again and again. She had attacked another soldier, for these damn stims. She looked at the precious needles gripped tightly with her hand. She longed to throw them off a tall building, and yet she'd sooner die than part from them. They were her curse and release. A snarl forced her head sideways and she saw a lone Hydralisk, slithering on its snake body across the street. How did it get so far into Antioch? Kerrigan reckoned it was simply a survivor of one of those sac drops she was hearing about over the radio.

She made for her rifle and realized she had left it behind. Then she resorted to her handgun. She attempted to grab it from its holster and realized her failed attempt. She had missed the weapon entirely. She shook her head. Kerrigan felt strange. The sharp vision blessed by the drugs was no longer present. She raised her hand to her face. Sarah's fingers trembled uncontrollably. Bewildered, she reached for another stim pack to correct her current state and found herself clumsily dropping them on the ground. She knelt to pick them up. The Hydralisk heard the sound. It reared its head and charged towards Sarah. She noticed its hide had been stripped of spines, most likely used fending off foes. With its two menacing blades, the monster bore down on Sarah. She raised her handgun, finally grabbing it at last. Her vision was blurry. She was seeing double. Even closing one eye did not correct her gaze. She fired, near blindly and unsurprisingly the shots were going wide. She abandoned her weapon and turned around, making a break for it. Her knees did not respond automatically and she awkwardly tripped over herself. She scrambled backwards away from the Hydralisk, though it was so close to killing her. It stood above her now, raising a large scythe arm.

_"No!"_ she cried to herself, shutting her eyes.

Several seconds passed before she let one eyelid open and saw the Hydralisk unmoving from the last stance she had seen it in – almost frozen in a way. It was as confused as Sarah was, though she wasn't going to waste her luck. Reaching back and grabbing a knife, she stabbed at the monster savagely and let the blade rest in its eye socket. The Hydralisk's corpse collapsed beside Kerrigan who was breathing hard.

"_What just happened?"_ she asked herself.

She was exhausted now. The adrenaline had subsided, leaving a fatigued woman on her stomach beside a Hydralisk without even the strength to get up

She reached for a needle. She had become an expert on prepping the incision. Placing it over her subclavian vein, Kerrigan winced as the sharp point of the needle sank into her skin. She released its contents to her bloodstream. Little did she know, that was the last stim her body could handle.

OOO

"Queen venom is a nasty thing to trifle with," spoke Doctor Hanson, strong but quiet. "It is a Psychedelic toxin that will continue to attack until destroyed. It carries traces of known hallucinogenic catalysts. The Commander may experience symptoms akin to an alteration of all senses, perception and awareness. It could destroy his mind if he is nothing less than unwaveringly strong. Fortunately, this is Jim Raynor we're talking about here."

"So he still has a chance?" asked Horner desperately.

"A good one, if I know Jim," agreed the Doctor. "He regained consciousness aboard his extraction ship. He demanded to be injected with whatever would halt the venom in its tracks. I complied. The serum I gave him will stem the virus...for a little while at least. At best, it will only delay the venom for maybe 8 hours or so."

"Where is he now?"

"En route back to the Observatory with Swann," reported Hanson. "The serum I gave him isn't completely tested. You must still monitor all his commanding actions to make sure the venom's influence has bypassed the counter-measure. Now excuse me, I must tend to my patients. They're coming in by the boatload now..."

OOO

General Warfield placed his rifle on a makeshift bench as he gazed out from the heavily fortified defence line. This was their last shot. Every last piece of crude metal had been chambered into the heavy guns of the soldiers. Dozens of Vikings had landed and trudged on the ground with their heavy feet, prepping their enormous Gatling guns for the inevitable storm. The even larger Thors reflected their pilots' anxiousness as their great giant hides shifted every so often. Warfield snorted. If they had seen the horrors that the 1st Battalion had seen they wouldn't be so eager to join the fight. At least now, they were finally bringing out the big guns. Thors, Colossi the entire Siege Tank Division that had been restricted by the narrow corridor streets of Outer Antioch had now been mobilized to fight in the more airy Inner Antioch region. The sky was painted orange. A notice of the rising sun, yet be it terrain or Protoss structures, the sun could not be seen and it offered little more than a bitter hint of what most of them would not live to see.

A thunderous explosion rocked the entire city. The deadly payloads of the spidermines had been triggered. Warfield only hoped they did significant damage. He pulled a lieutenant beside him and spoke ever quietly, not wanting to raise suspicion or weariness.

"Get Horner on the line," Warfield told the soldier, quietly. "Tell him that it is in my recommendation as active commanding officer on the ground to prepare to initiate Plan B."

The soldier recoiled as if shot. "Plan B!" he exclaimed, only lowering his voice after being targeted by the General's ominous glare. "That was meant as a last resort. Sir, you of all people must know the consequences of that strategy."

"The hell I do!" said General Warfield, angrily. "I came up with the damn thing. Look around yourself, officer. Does this not look like a last resort to you? We may very well be overrun, and soon. If we are, we still have one shot left to take em' all out."

"You'd be forfeiting our lives," hissed the soldier, mutinously. "I didn't sign up for this."

"What did you sign up for?" demanded Warfield, his anger building. "I know you, Copper. You're not one of the thousands taken from the prisons. You're one of the few volunteers in our entire army. The question is why?"

"I...I wanted to make sure my kids would live a good life," responded the lieutenant, visor raised and with a stare almost as strong as Warfield's. "They can hardly have a good one with their father blown to millions of pieces half way across the Sector!"

"Keep your voice down!" threatened the larger man. "You thought you could simply prance into this army, fire off a few rounds, satisfy your pathetic sense of duty and be back home with your family without so much as a scratch? Well I got news for you, boy, this is war. If you weren't ready to sacrifice, you shouldn't have joined up. And if you really thought all you'd leave the war with was a shiny little medal, then you're sorely mistaken. Listen, I'm not saying anything's going to happen. All I know is that in a few minutes, we'll be facing the single largest zerg force we've ever encountered. All I'm asking is that command starts...preparing, just in case."

The visor slid back down the lieutenant's face, shielding his emotions and intentions. With a stiff salute, he left Warfield's presence and headed over to the communicator. Warfield sighed. The tension was getting to everyone. At least Raynor hadn't gotten himself killed. Even Warfield knew they'd need him before this was over. And so Warfield resumed his gaze out into Antioch. These nerve-racking moments before the final push was excruciating and everywhere, everyone was feeling it.

Every card in the book had been played. They had been forced to reveal their hidden supply depot line to the zerg early on while fending off the stragglers chasing the First Battalion. What the zerg didn't know was the existence of another supply depot line, hidden in the dirt across from the initial one. Inside the supply depots rested not ammunition or rations, but men. The structure had been outfitted to fit a squad into each supply depot. When the zerg came charging, both supply depot lines would be raised and at least a portion of the zerg army would be cut off from the majority and those within the supply depots could begin their ambush, leaving the rest of the Second Battalion to deal with the larger and more ominous remaining threat.

The rhythmic beating of metal on metal rang through the terribly small supply depot of Squad Echo, a squad not as distinguished in service as Alpha, nor as experienced as Bravo or as tenacious as Charlie. Patrick, a low level private, glared daggers at his comrade, banging his head, albeit subconsciously against the back of the supply depot. He looked around for support but none provided it. They all had their heads down, some praying, some cursing and one fellow looking as if he was trying to crush his head within his large hands to avoid the coming storm. Another was flicking his bayonet forward, peculiarly watching the sharp blade protrude from his rifle's barrel, only to vanish back inside. He was eyeing that bayonet, almost tempted to trip on his feet and unceremoniously fall upon his knife much like a novel he had once read. And the clang of metal continued.

"Enough!" Patrick hissed, standing up at once. "Cut it out, Baker!"

"Leave it be," replied the sergeant sternly. "Everyone's trying to keep their sanity. Don't deprive Baker of his."

Patrick sat down again. He had counted the number of indents on the combat suits of his squad for the past 12 hours since he had been shoved into this tiny underground structure. The walls seemed to close in on him. The others didn't notice it. Patrick's eyes went wide as he saw the very laws of physics being broken as the walls closed in on him in an almost suffocating manner. He stood up once more.

"This is bullshit," he declared, voice wavering.

Nobody said a word. Perhaps they had fallen deaf to the lowest ranking soldier's gripes. Or maybe they had such vulgar and crude minds that one curse was no different than the next. Or maybe they stayed quiet, because they agreed but couldn't bring themselves to voice their opinions and crush any remaining sense of hope.

"What the hell are we doing here?" asked Patrick, desperately.

"We've been over this a dozen times, Ko-" started Baker tiringly.

"No!" interrupted Patrick. "Not the plan, but...why are _we_ stuck in this mess?"

"You volunteered," snarled the sergeant. "Shouldn't have joined if you didn't have the balls to follow through."

"I went through hell and back with the Raiders!" yelled Patrick, his voice ringing in the small quarters. "And I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being that one little marine, a tiny blue dot on someone's screen, someone expendable and to be sacrificed in the scope of the larger battlefield!"

Baker let out a bitter laugh. "You want more?"

"I want out!" snapped Patrick.

He looked around for an escape but the sergeant was the only one with the mechanism to raise and lower the supply depots.

"I want out," he repeated again.

"I heard you the first time, private," sighed the sergeant. "But there's no way in hell we're compromising our position just for a marine who's lost his head."

"That's what I'm talking about!" exploded Patrick once more. "You see? We're nothing more than pawns here! Command wouldn't spare a second thought if we all vanished from the face of the planet! Like I said, I'm sick of it all! I've served Raynor for 4 years now! 4 YEARS! And has he once shown his face to me? To any of us? Rumour has it, he's just some lucky drunk who doesn't know what he's doing and has been winging it the entire time! We've never even seen the man and he has the gall to order us around and we have the idiocy to follow! I'm sick of taking orders from a voice in my helmet, someone to cowardly to even show his face! I ain't taking orders from a damn drunk anymore!"

Several of the marines were slowly rising to their feet, their rifles only inches away. They tentatively looked at Patrick waiting to see if he would become a risk.

"Calm yourself, Private," reminded the sergeant. He wasn't shocked or surprised. Everything that had just been said, he had heard a million times, in fact he had thought the very same things a million times. Why was _he _here? Of course he knew why. Maybe he would have to tell the young frightened private.

"I ain't scared sergeant!" said Patrick defensively. "I joined the fight with my brother. But I did so under the premise that we'd be treated like real soldiers, not just damned cannon fodder for the big guns! This ain't right! What did he get for all his service? A Hydra spine straight through the helmet while Raynor abandoned the base to save that devil Warfield and his Dominion fiends! And what do we get? We're stuck in this thing while those Dominion boys are sitting back with all their gear – those smug assholes."

"Enough, Koiter," snapped the sergeant. "If you wanted it easy, you should've applied for SCV corps. Were in the thick of it, and that's the way I like it. We're all small men, soldier. Get used to it. And I don't care what you say, Raynor is just as small as we are. We're all just little fools running around the galaxy and in the grand scheme of things, our actions may not even be worth a damn in the end."

"So why bother?" asked Patrick, miserably.

"Why not?" responded the sergeant. "Like I said, we don't have any real power. None of us do. So there's nothing to lose now, no harm in trying. We're all small cogs in a larger machine, one even Raynor is included in. All we can do is keep the machine running and hope that whoever is controlling it, be it God, forces of nature, logic, luck, or even other goddamned aliens, know what they're doing. . You can quit and run after this is over, but either way, you're in it now. And there's no easy way out. Speaking of which, listen closely."

Echo Squad heard the tiny scurrying of creatures above their supply depot. All other squads were reporting similarly. The sergeant withdrew the raising device.

"All elements go! Commence the ambush!"

OOO

"Charge!" roared Zeratul, urging his other invisible brethren on. "The zerg have brought out a new strain against us. The Pygalisks may resemble the Ultralisks, but their reach is small and their hides, thin. Strike hard and fast and you will come under little harm. Now to arms!"

Warfield saw, the Dark Templar wink out of sight. No matter how many times he saw that, he would never get used to it. Over his head, Seven Colossi had been mobilized under his command. Orange beams ripped from their golden bodies and melted the nearest enemies, leaving only burning and charred remains. The lasers scathed other buildings, but at this point, the collateral damage was anything but a priority.

"This is it boys!" roared Warfield. "This is the last push. Hold your ground and shoot anything you see!"

Whatever other commands he could have given were drowned out by the discharging of the entire siege tank division, whose numbers came close to a hundred. The shells fell upon the zerg, blowing them to pieces. Banelings exploded in a messy green cloud, adding to the explosion and removing themselves from the fight. Vikings mowed down endless lines of Hydralisks with their blaring Gatling guns. The very recoil shook the machines but they didn't dare stop. Casings littered the floor and it would seem likely that all of Aiur could hear the battle being waged.

"Bring the Thors forward!" screamed the General.

A single round from one of the Odin's smaller brothers was enough to topple a nearby Ultralisk, sending it to the ground, permanently. The other Thors lined up similarly and began unloading as many rounds as they could into the onslaught of monsters. Their 120mm cannons on their backs had also been activated. Engineer Swann had warned against simultaneous use of both weapon systems but the situation was dire and the pilots were throwing everything they had at the swarm. An Infestor got within range and sent out a long deadly tentacle. It ripped through the cockpit of a nearby Thor, piercing his chest cavity. In a final manoeuvre, he sent his own Thor toppling to the ground rather than submit his machine to the zerg's bidding.

A lone Immortal, Fenix, as it were, proudly defended the statue of Adun from a plethora of roaches. They all fell before the veteran warrior, who viciously defended his race and its heroes and unconsciously became one in the process.

"Storms!" cried the Hierarch to his people. "Let loose the templar power!"

The sky, blazon with reddish and orange colouring crackled electric blue. This unparalleled power drew closer and closer to zerg ranks until it fell on them, scattering their push, and dividing their lines. The storms continued as the templar stood atop nearby roofs, commanding the powers of psionic destruction. The zerg writhed and tried to scurry away, but everywhere, they found under the blanket of the storm. It was inescapable and soon, all within the area had perished.

A number of ghosts had been perched up on some nearby buildings and were picking off as many targets as they could. Meanwhile, several zerg squeezed into a street leading to the vast city square. The street was swarmed with zealots, fierce and ready to prevent the zerg from advancing. But for many other zerg, they had already made their way into the open. Those that had not been pounded by siege tanks, crushed by Thors and roasted by Colossi, headed for the Observatory. The dawn was nigh.

"Away, foul creatures," boomed a voice, female but nonetheless commanding. "It is time for us to play our part. Interceptor Bays ready and launch!"

The large golden ships of Executor Selendis had finally exited the hangars of Antioch. Their bays were packed with Interceptors, many more than it was built for. Like a swarm of golden retribution, the Interceptors poured out of their mother Carriers had descended upon the zerg. The sheer number was astounding. Horner's unit tracker had exploded with the appearance of such small but deadly warriors.

Even Hydralisk spines were being shot out of the sky. The interceptors fluttered about in a blinding speed, firing even tinier salvos of pure destruction. Zerg minions were ripped to shreds beneath the ravaging sweep of the mighty Carriers. The small interceptors zipped from target to target, barely leaving any room to present a target. Few could follow their insane pace and fewer could aim at them. Only a handful could actually strike them. Nevertheless, the pilots did not want to risk the destruction of their interceptors. They recalled many low on shields, back to the hangars to be quickly restored to full plasma shields and once again launched into battle. Yet more interceptors filled the ranks of those retreated.

The personal guard of Hierarch Artanis had arrived. All Protoss had been forced off the Shield of Aiur to provide better use such as commandeering the many aircraft and Colossi at their disposal. Alas, Artanis was left as the sole living thing aboard the massive flag ship and symbol of hope for the Protoss. His mind went into near overload as his brain, already speeding through instantaneous battle commands and tactical analysis, joined the stress of commandeering such a massive and complex ship as this.

The sizzling beam of the molten hot Colossi Thermal Lance had left only burning corpses in its wake. Warfield cursed as the beam had left a searing black mark across his chest plate – much to close for comfort. With one hand squeezing the trigger on the rifle, the other utilized his new cannon arm to full effect. His armour's recoil compensator was negated by the lack of the steadying arm. Nevertheless, accuracy was hardly a concern for the General. Anywhere he could shoot, there was guaranteed to be zerg there. A roach exploded from the ground, behind General Warfield. Without turning his head, Warfield, with much muscle strain, heaved his heavy cannon over his shoulder, facing it directly into the maw of the Roach. The round tore through its body, sending its remains flying into a nearby marine's visor, which mistakenly eased off the trigger to wipe his visor – an act which cost him his life.

Through all the fury and gunfire, Warfield, the veteran he was, was still able to maintain a calm head. He chuckled inwardly at the sight of such a high ranking commander, fighting beside privates and corporals in a battle deemed suicide to all but the courageous and stupid. But it was those traits that made the general a force to be reckoned with. The people of Torus could attest to that. The marine regiment, still standing firm against the zerg, had been ordered back. Several friendly fire casualties between siege tanks and infantry had already occurred and the General was done seeing his men blown apart by the very cannons protecting them.

He felt something at his leg. Immediately he aimed his rifle, only easing off the trigger when he saw its metallic composition. The fragile SCVs bustled past Warfield and other fighters, carrying what appeared to be turrets. All around him, Warfield noticed the SCV deployment, hardly standard given their circumstances. Delicately, their packages were placed firmly on the ground. Warfield realized what they were.

"Infantry fall back!" yelled Warfield into his suit's radio. "Let the Flaming Betties tear them a new one!"

In such a short period of time, the defenders of Aiur had compensated for their vast outnumbering adversaries. As much as possible, they swivelled around constantly, checking their blind spots, assuring themselves that one victory did not come at the cost of one's life. A nearby zealot crushed a zergling under its heel before twisting its body around and catching the blade of a hydralisk before viciously stabbing it in its midsection and throwing the heavy corpse back at another zerg batch. Warfield saw a particularly large marine unlock the shield from his arm and proceed to smash it into the small hides of zerglings and even a couple Pygalisks. Improvisation was the only key to survival here. Relying on old methods left the lucky ones dead and the others begging for release. One cunning soldier took cover behind the hulking remains of a downed Viking, ripping its Gatling gun from its arm and manually firing it into more Roaches.

"Banelings to the west! Take them down! _Take them down!"_

Most of the Vikings swivelled their weapons and mowed down the fiends, leaving but a pool of green acidic goo as a display of the creatures' mindless charge. Unfortunately, several made it past the hailstorm of metal, smashing into a nearby Colossus, its tender legs buckling and ultimately giving way as the heavy body, tumbled down to earth, crushing a lone vulture trying to do its part. Zergling ranks broke free as they ran at the newest target of high value: Engineer Swann's best friend. Rather than targeting individual enemies, the Flaming Betties whined as they began quickly spinning their gun shafts and igniting their flames, giving off an image of a ring of fire, which despite any comical origins, was nonetheless effective in halting any zerg from touching the precious machines.

Another rumble shook the earth. This one was very loud. Warfield spared a second and turned round. A hulk of metal, defined by its cannon arms and missile-like apparatus on its back trudged slowly to the battlefield. Its pilot, missing an arm in favour of a claw, was whooping loudly from within the cockpit, displaying a bitter grin as he moved his machine to kick aside a fallen Ultralisk corpse. It appeared to be a Thor, but only when it passed the ranks of its apparent counterparts did the difference become clear. The machine was larger. The guns were bigger. And it was a whole hell of a lot more frightening.

"The Odin!" exclaimed Warfield in shock. He had never expected Raynor's Raiders to be capable enough to bypass their weapon's rigid systematic defences to be properly utilized, especially by someone other than the original pilot. He peered into the cockpit, finding one Rory Swann. Warfield had not taken this ingenious miner into account. Warfield never thought, in his wildest dreams that he'd ever see the Odin again, much less fighting at his side on an alien planet against another alien race.

The few remaining overlords that had not yet been shot down immediately saw the Odin and identified it as the highest priority. It wordlessly commanded its fiercest warriors to the forefront. Omegalisks and Brutalisks, largest land zerg of all strains, marched over its allies, uncaring of the collateral damage. Only one goal had been engrained into their minds: the Odin. Mercilessly and loudly crying an inhuman noise, they charged as marines and zealots alike scrambled backwards.

"Oh is this how it is?" roared Swann. "Well two can play at this game! I brought friends of my own!"

Warfield had to sidestep as his previous position was rolled over by heavy treads. These treads did not belong to siege tanks however. Instead, a towering metal object rested atop the treads. Quickly and surprisingly agile, these warbots rolled onto the scene, leaving tread marks the width of two grown men in its wake. Warfield could hardly imagine what these machines could have been. Then again, Mengsk had always kept certain military experiments outside of Warfield's knowledge. Castanar installation was one of Mengsk favourite secret places. Although Warfield always knew, yet never dared to witness what new horrifying projects Mengsk was now directing.

The battle had now become one of giants. The slavering Brutalisks with their horribly twisted and mangled features engaged the pinnacle of Terran ingenuity. Metal and claw, armour and hide, beast and machine. They clashed with such an unparalleled power that one could nearly overlook the decadence of the zerg for now they witnessed a fight of epic and terrible proportions. Never stopping, the A.R.E.S. machines launched themselves full-speed towards their opponents. Their safety casings were released, as the heavy metal shells fell to the earth with a solid thud. They shielded the weapons made for no other reason than absolute carnage.

A Brutalisk lashed out with its gargantuan claws but the A.R.E.S. armour held firm. Its velocity did not falter, but ran straight into the Brutalisk, pushing the damned fiend back losing ground until finally pinning it against a nearby building. The groan of the building's weakening structure was heard by many. The warbot let loose its Napalm Burninator, its barrels pressed as close as possible to the target. The abominable shriek echoed above all others as the A.R.E.S. bot began cooking the daunting monster to a crisp finish. Another A.R.E.S. came forth – this one outfitted with anti-vehicle weaponry – immediately targeting the closest Brutalisk and firing its blaringly loud T82 Missile Pod volley. The monster buckled immediately from the first round. The second went straight into what appeared to be its head. Finally several 120mm cannons from another warbot dominated over the zerg, forcing several to double over. Some Brutalisks still left with a shred of control, attempted to flee, only to be brutally put down by the giant machines.

The infantry did their part –as much as they could. Yet most felt both safe but irritatingly overshadowed by these machines of destruction. It worked to their favour however. The majority of the zerg forces were scurrying to the edges of the city square, making them easy targets without presenting a danger to themselves. Rory Swann bitterly cursed his machine. It was more clunky and slow than his Thors, but that was the price paid for the additional firepower. He fought off two Brutalisks at once, making a near punching movement with his first arm, sticking his cannon arm deep into the Brutalisk's belly before firing the trigger. The next was blown to bits by his equally strong left arm cannon. If there was any pleasure to be had in war, Rory Swann had found it.

OOO

"Bring me up to speed, Matt," panted Raynor as he entered the tactical command room, looking as bad as one could with a fellow soldier supporting his commander.

"You shouldn't be here!" hissed Horner. "You took a dose of Queen venom for God sake! At least take a breather."

"The zerg won't wait for me to catch my breath," murmured Jim. "I can handle the venom. Just tell me what the hell is going on."

Matt conceded. "The 2nd Battalion has engaged the zerg. The spider mines did all we could have hoped for, but still, the zerg numbers are astronomical. Its gonna take a lot of luck to get through this one. Selendis has engaged the zerg with her Carrier fleet – judging by the damage their causing, we should have deployed them a hell of a lot sooner. We have sharpshooters on the 3 Meditation Towers overlooking the city square, where most of the fight is taking place. Swann is pushing through the square with his new Mechanical Division. You should see it. I have no idea how he got hold of the A.R.E.S. prototypes. But every element has been deployed to battle. The Hades is reporting all clear in the skies. Even the Hierarch guard has been brought to the fight."

"What?" demanded Raynor suddenly. "Artanis is putting himself at a huge risk!"

"Much like you did," replied Horner crossly. "And if we don't get a miracle, it won't matter how much danger he's in. We're all gonna end up dead anyway."

Raynor slowly turned his head away from the tactical screen towards his second in command. "Matt, what are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

"I gave the order with recommendation from General Warfield to prepare Plan B should the worst happen. The Galapagos is in position and standing by."

"Pull it off now!" exclaimed Raynor, angrily. "I only gave the go ahead for that ridiculous contingency to appease Warfield and his all too pessimistic prediction. That was a last resort. We're not proceeding with it while we still have men fighting."

"I know," responded Horner, hastily. "I gave explicate orders to the Galapagos to hold fire until I the executive order was given."

"Until?" repeated Raynor with a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Until? Matt, we are _not_ going to nuke our own location."

"It's the only foolproof way we can eradicate the zerg on Aiur," protested Matt. "You knew the implications when you signed off on this one. If we can't win, we can at least make sure the zerg sure as hell don't win either. At least agree to keep the Galapagos in position just in case," he pleaded.

Raynor turned away, facing the errorless window, where he could see the battle raging in the city square. His mind throbbed. Whether it was from the poison or the thought of committing suicide, murder and betrayal in one fell swoop, Raynor felt his mouth dry, his skin quiver uncomfortably against his clothes and an irreparable case of restlessness in his left hand coupled with his mind-splitting migraine. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, drown out the battle and escape into his dreams, leaving others to deal with the mess he so often found himself in. But he wouldn't and not only for his men. If he closed his eyes, especially at a time like this with some sort of foreign toxin messing with his mind, he would most surely see him. The one which haunted his dreams for 8 years. He brought his mind from the consuming nostalgia brought himself back to the tactical screen.

"Disengage the Flaming Betties," he sighed tiredly. "Move the tanks to the high ground and mobilize Task Force Gamma to compensate. We need those Banshees more than ever now. I want all Medvacs on standby. Make sure they know the proper routes to take when we have to evacuate snipers from the towers. Get the Reaper detachment to execute Contingency 3. Blow the damn thing."

OOO

A sac, delicate and pulsating, touched the earth gently next to the slain Hydralisk body. It did its job as effectively as possible. Somehow, despite conventional Protoss and Terran wisdom, it excreted the violet biomass that sustained the Protoss army. It covered the Hydralisk, dissolving its body into the earth, leaving nothing for crude experimental autopsies. The creep continued to spread, making its way to a woman, laying frail and helpless on her stomach, barely aware of what was happening around her. It touched her shoulder, began creeping up her legs and gently but surely attracting her reddish hair, keeping it to the ground as more and more creep spread over her – ready to consume her and take back what was rightfully theirs.

Explosions were all but expected, especially now in the midst of glorious battle. This one however had humble origins. It did not take from the explosive Siege Tank shells that had taken nearly a decade to perfect nor the Thor cannons which were even now, still in the experimental stages. No, this explosion, echoing off the walls of Antioch structures, came from a couple well placed D-8 charges. Nothing was heard. And then, a splash.

Churning as it manoeuvred through the buildings, it was restless incapable immobility especially after sitting still for near 4 years. The reaper charges had released it and it bustled with excitement, free at last. Once the most abundant and respected things on Aiur, it fell quickly into imprisonment and near extinction with the arrival of the zerg. But that was to be expected. After all, it was the one thing, the unsolvable anomaly that even the Xel'Naga in all their wisdom could not correct. It was the one thing that the zerg could not fight nor adapt to.

The reapers had broken the Antioch Water Reservoir.

* * *

**Author's Note: I really apologize for taking such untimely breaks, especially at this point in the story. I regret having to break up the battle into irregularly updated chapters which often require rereading the interconnected chapters. The truth of the matter is that I'm really not a battle scene writer. In fact I got plain sick of the Siege of Antioch despite the fact that I had spent so much time crafting it into a sufficient mid-story climax and a fitting end to the Aiur Reclamation plot. Fortunately for all of us, it is near its end. The retaking of Aiur is in the final stages of its conclusion. Only 1 maybe 2 chapters left for the battle.**

**I plan on getting a lot of writing done this weekend so hopefully I can quickly wrap this plot up. Until then, please keep reading and reviewing – it really helps my writing. **


	23. Chapter 23

Cries of surprise let loose. Even those who knew of the contingency were startled as they felt the tide push against their metal boots. A wave of water descended upon the city square, quickly engulfing the defenders, who stood firm against it. The zerg were much less fortunate. Zerglings scrambled but were ultimately trapped by the cursed substance, immediately succumbing and beginning to painfully drown. Zerg minions all around began backing away, trying to find an untouched area free of the water.

The water rose to meet the marines at their waists. Though it was not all together refreshing, at least it provided a tactical advantage. The combat suits were working over-capacity to maintain systems underwater. And the water was not simply pure as it had been before the breach. No it was stained with the blood of battle. A pale but noticeable reddish colouring flowed through the water, only increasing the general awareness of this battle's losses.

The larger zerg creatures moved tentatively, as if their feet were on searing ashes. The warbots capitalized on this as best they could, quickly punishing the zerg's unsteady footing with retaliating explosive munitions. The Protoss, the purity of form, effortlessly manoeuvred in the water, their large muscles allowing them easy mobility. They continued slashing through the zerg ranks which, even for a moment, looked thin, looked worn out and most of all, finite.

Were their eyes deceiving themselves? Surely not unless every defender was witnessing the same delusion. But it seemed, through the chaos of battle, that the zerg numbers were dwindling. They could see the end, a possible outcome besides the sacking of Antioch once again. The sun beat furiously against the buildings of Antioch, almost furiously so. The time for the sun to bless Antioch was nigh. It settled for providing small encouragement by lighting the sky with a blaze of orange. The light had nearly come. They would fight to see it so.

Roaches desperately attacked, but they were quickly submerged beneath the endless water. Banelings, unable to compensate for the cool temperature, exploded quickly, as their toxic materials drifted down the stream, only to inflict further damage to more zerg scoundrels. Hydralisks, instinctively burrowed sensing danger only to have their hide outs filled with water and drown them to death. And as the zerg was busy minimizing the devastating effect of the water, the 2nd Battalion did all they could, picking off any target they could see. The ghost sharpshooters were particularly having a field day as the zerg presented themselves as open targets, one that even a new recruit could hit.

Could they make it through this? An unnerving feeling that came with war was rich in the air as was the pungent smell of blood, hot metal and death. Though, carefully concealed, so to not be hasty, a sliver of hope found its way into the defenders, encouraging them on to what could very well be the greatest victory in Protoss history.

OOO

"We've got to break off!" cried the first mate. "To hell with the orders! We're sitting ducks out here!"

"We've gotta hold position!" bellowed the captain of the Galapagos. "Orders are orders. We have to hold our ground. All men to battle stations. I've never seen something like this in my life, but I'll be damned if we don't do something."

The Galapagos, one of the heavy hitters of the Minotaur class Battlecruisers within the Dominion's arsenal, put up an inspiring fight, with bright flashes signalling weapon discharges nearly blanketing the entire ship. All hands had been mobilized on the weapons decks. Cannons, lasers, even a few Yamato salvos had been all but wasted.

They did what they could, but in 20 seconds, the Galapagos was gone.

OOO

"Class 10 zerg flyer detected," loudly declared the adjutant, her metallic voice void of soothing tones in favour clear and concise warnings of doom and almost panic. "Largest on record."

Raynor and Matt looked at each other, knowingly. They had seen every known zerg strain brought to the battle here. It was foolish to expect any to be excluded from this monstrous battle that could ultimately destroy or liberate an entire race. Nevertheless, a strong feeling of dread manifested itself inside Raynor's gut, and it wasn't just because of the poison. He saw it as it effortlessly made quick work of the Galapagos, slicing through one of their finest ships like it was nothing more than a pesky nuisance. And this one was even larger than Raynor had ever imagined. He suspected the one on Char must have simply been a child, quickly bred and unable to reach its full size and might before being methodically put down, though not without significant losses. How they were going to deal with this monstrosity, Raynor did not know. What he did know was that at the apex of the 2nd Battalion's impetus, they'd soon face a single horror that was unlike any they had ever encountered.

The Leviathan had come.

OOO

She was lying down at the bottom of the small pond in Haven. Yet she only felt dirt for the land had been vacated of water. Without previous knowledge, it would appear that Sarah Kerrigan was merely within a moderately small crater. Where it had gone was a mystery. The ghost painfully brought herself to her feet, already shivering at the feeling of dirt. Where was the water? Kerrigan felt awfully exposed at this point, glancing over her shoulder as often as one could. She could not stop the anxiety from returning to her. She could almost taste the bile forming with her body as she desperately searched for even a droplet of water, something she could safeguard herself with. But there was nothing there. It had been sucked out.

"By what?" she asked herself.

A twinge in her neck caused her to wince and place a hand on the delicate spot. It throbbed excruciatingly. What was that about?

The world around Sarah seemed threatening. Where was the water? The zerg could strike at any moment. They were the masters of land. So Kerrigan continued searching helplessly for the water, wanting to find either the source of water or the source of its deprivation, yet she could find neither, yet something in the back of her mind told her that the answer to the latter was buried somewhere, waiting to be found and experience a moment of shocking understanding.

But where was the water?

An object was launched from the sky. Its trajectory coincided with that of the sun, resembling almost an eclipse of sort, a phenomenon that was the subject of much wonder by young Kerrigan always wanting to break free of the planet's gravity and explore the enigma of the astral realm of interstellar space. Yet Kerrigan spotted another. And then another, followed by another. She squinted and realized they were not the moons covering the sun as a predictable course of gravitational movement, rather they were living things, writhing within a shell of sorts, almost resembling a violet coloration that she happened to dread...

Kerrigan could barely utter a scream as the first creep tumour attached itself to her arm. Another struck her side while more stacked on her leg. She was becoming overwhelmed. One sucked unbearably at the back of her head while yet another one latched its pulsating body onto her neck as its pulse began to move in time with hers. She was near covered now. Yet where was her defence?

Where was the water?

Where was her control?

The neck pain continued to present a blistering pain, yet it was hardly the issue of concern for Sarah. She flailed her arms in desperation, trying to rid her limbs of these foul things. Yet she proceeded only to tire herself and provide the tumours the incentive to quicken their spread. They made their way to her face at which point Kerrigan collapsed back to the ground, her eyes stung with tears of hopelessness and despair. And still the neck wound continued to grow in pain. It spread up her left cheek as she could only howl in terror.

"_Is this how it is?"_ asked Kerrigan miserably. _"Am I doomed to this fate?"_

Something else, pure in form and cyclical in nature fell from the sky – just a single one, strange given the conditions. It splattered against Kerrigan's shoulder, immediately causing a searing pain, yet strangely a welcoming one. Sarah looked at her shoulder. She only saw an imperfect circle of flesh where the object had struck. She saw flesh...flesh! There was no creep in that tiny blessed area. Meanwhile the creep on her face had risen to the side where it was nibbling away at her earlobe, preparing to consume that organ as well.

Another one fell from the sky, this time touching the back of her hand, burning away the creep. Several more, that Kerrigan could no longer count, smashed into her, causing her immense pain and relief altogether. It was raining. Her neck throbbed uncontrollably. And then she heard a rumbling nearby. She turned her head, all the while on her stomach, only to see a white wave of moisture descending into the crater. The water had come and it raced towards her as her ultimate saviour and restorer of control. It splashed violently, churning ahead with a speed that would rival the mighty tidal waves of Aiur's waters.

The dream and the real world seemed to blend together. Sarah could hear the rush of water both in her ears and still in her mind, much like the incessant ring that irritated so many when they attempted to sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open, at which point she wondered still, as the water crashed into her body, carrying it down the street, submerging it and tossing it about – all while her body couldn't even move and her lungs couldn't breathe.

"_Is this a dream?" _she found herself asking.

And her neck continued to throb.

OOO

3 Carriers went down instantly – their interceptors going mad without directive, flying uncontrollably in all directions, frantic and aimless. Screams of shock and terror were drowned out by the inhumane cry of the gargantuan Leviathan that made its smaller brother on Char seem absolutely miniscule. Weapons were raised towards the new beast. In a burst of speed, a tentacle was launched from the Leviathan, in such a blinding speed that many could only see a violet blur. It struck a Thor, readying its anti-air weaponry. To the horror of all, the tentacle, despite showing no signs of such muscular aptitude, effortlessly raised the Thor from the ground and flung it several hundred yards into another building. Dozens of tentacles were unravelled from its body and proceeded in similar fashion.

"How could this happen?" everyone asked themselves in disbelief.

They had just finished off the ground force. And that was no lie. They had beaten the zerg army. They had actually won! And yet none could hardly believe it and with good reason. For as more and more started to change from shock to joy, the Leviathan appeared with such speed and size that all their previous accomplishments seemed minimal in face of such a threat.

People scrambled for cover, breaking free from squads and regiments, knowing that sticking together meant maximizing the Leviathan's damage. More aircraft was called to battle. A flurry of Phoenix made their first run by the Leviathan, dousing it with blue projectiles that did little more than tenderly prick the monster's hard skin. It reared its ugly head and launched cocoons from its mouth- no doubt stored in its airy sac of a body. The cocoons remained airborne for a few moments before erupting into Mutalisks and Brood Lords. More and more cocoons came forth until there was a sizeable force.

"It's summoning an entire damn army!" hissed Raynor.

"Command, this is General Warfield! This thing is tearing us apart! Requesting immediate airborne assistance!"

"General, all our aerial elements are engaging the Leviathan as we speak," replied Horner frankly.

"So there's no one left to send? Come on! We need support!"

The Phoenix broke away from attacking the Leviathan as soon as fighters on the outer wings of their formation began to be picked off by the Mutalisks joining the fight. Frustratingly, Prelate Urun was forced to engage the reinforcements, calling the rest of his fleet to act accordingly. This left the Brood lords which were inflicted huge damage on the ground forces, even slowly eating away at the Odin's tough armour as Rory had little weaponry to target such small creatures without blowing his own leg apart. Mohandar instructed his fleet to do what they could, but they could not sustain fire on the Broodlords. Every time a beam was established, the Leviathan would launch a tentacle and strike the vessel from the sky, leaving its remains to dangerously fall on the forces below.

"Enough!" cried Executor Selendis, moving her own ship to battle. By far the largest Carrier in service, even coming close to the size of the Super Carrier Gantithor, flag ship of Executor Tassadar, Selendis furiously commanded her interceptors to attack. The single ship began tearing apart Mutalisks and Broodlords from the sky. The Leviathan screamed in anger as Interceptors peppered its skin while it was busy launching out even more cocoons. It craned its neck towards the Carrier of Executor Selendis and launched a brownish sludge on top of the golden spotless ship. The interceptors stood still as soon as the sludge came in contact with the Carrier. They floated, dazed, almost frozen in the sky, as their Carrier failed to deliver any action whatsoever. It stood idly with the sludge covering much of its surface.

Selendis furiously worked her ship, but to no avail. "My ship is no longer responding!" she called to her fleet. There must be some sort of Bio-stasis at work here."

The maw of the Leviathan opened wide and dozens of scourge poured out. The explosive fiends moved at a speed which could match most Interceptors. Quickly picking the idle interceptors out of the sky and skilfully manoeuvring away from those that attacked, the flight of scourge sped towards the paralyzed ship of Executor Selendis.

"So be it," she whispered. "I will be remembered."

Her eyes closed momentarily, only raising her eyelids several seconds later when she felt her own destruction averted or delayed. The terran ships known as Ravens had arrived and deployed objects known as Point Defence Drones. With laser precision, the Point Defence Drones hovered around Selendis' ship, forming a perimeter around the endangered flagship of the esteemed Executor. The Scourge were shot from the sky as they attempted to breach the perimeter. The exploded in greenish goo much like the Banelings would have.

The Leviathan, thankfully, had more pressing concerns. More small but persistent fire peppered its underbelly as ground forces mustered the strength to begin firing at the fiend. Nearby, a captain found the courage to take on the Leviathan with a small Battle Cruiser. Its maw opened once more, which at this point, most knew something bad was about to happen. A luminescent green slime slewed from it, flying towards the Battle Cruiser. Matthew Horner identified it as the bio-plasmid discharge that had so greatly crippled their forces on Char. The effect was devastating the Battle Cruiser went down instantaneously.

"I will not let our end come about by a single monster," growled the commanding voice of Hierarch Artanis.

In the midst of the ensuing air battle, the Shield of Aiur had snuck behind the Leviathan and rested over the beast keeping a safe distance for what he was about to do. The Mothership emitted energy from its hull and few blue sparks could be seen dancing around the surface as the energy output was so high as to take on physical form. A thousand things ran through this leader's head, so much so that to properly focus, he had to truly concentrate so loudly that the very action echoed off the empty hull of the Shield of Aiur. Like the ship itself, Artanis would do what he had to, to protect the homeland.

"Planetary Cracker," he hummed, harmonically with the resonance of the ship's inner sounds.

He felt the power of the ship, consolidate immediately, all forms of psionic energy being amassed to a single point at the bottom of his ship. The ship itself began shaking slightly, decorated ornamentation around Artanis began to rumble and slip, shattering instantly, but he cared little for such trifling things. Eyes closed, not daring to risk breaking concentration, he muttered the words

"Planetary Cracker. Planetary Cracker. Planetary Cracker," he monotonously repeated.

_"I am the Hierarch of the Protoss. I will protect my people at whatever cost."_

Artanis, through all his concentration, managed somehow to slightly divulge a thought mostly unrelated to the matter at hand. He stood alone on his ship confronting the single largest zerg ever faced. If the creature didn't kill him, there was a likely chance that his own ship would fail due to the extreme strenuous undertaking. Either way, he considered his time limited. Only now did he understand his old friend Fenix. He understood as he could feel his brothers around him, fighting for their lives. He felt such strong pride in his warriors that he knew, at this point, he would have done anything to ensure the survival of his race. Like Fenix, he would forsake all traditions, break all laws, and become a monster himself, if only his race would endure.

"Fenix, my old comrade, you are wise beyond your years," Artanis called out. "I finally understand what you did and why. Forgive me my brother it was not my place to judge."

"Artanis!" bellowed Fenix, albeit surprised that the telepathy was strong enough to reach him. "Pull back! Pull back! You cannot put yourself in such peril! You are a leader! The Protoss need you!"

"What good is a leader who won't fight for his cause?" asked Artanis softly. "Whatever anyone might say if the truth comes out, you are an admirable Protoss, my friend. You did what you had to. And now I will do so as well."

Surprisingly, the concentration did not break, but amplified, almost empowered by Artanis' final understanding and calm manner in the face of his likely doom. But his death was covered by thoughts at the forefront of his mind. Would he be able to stop this beast? Would he die? Would he do what Fenix did to return?

"Fenix," asked Artanis, tentatively and very quiet as his ship continued to build up energy. "What is it like...to die?"

Fenix made to protest, but he knew Artanis' mind was set. The least he could do was comfort his friend of over 300 years.

"It's actually a quite pleasant experience," he mused, quietly. "But altogether boring the second time through, I must say."

Fenix took a breath. "The world vanishes before you and you behold simply light."

"Not as painful as what we've been through, old friend," said Fenix sombrely. "Much easier as well, I would say."

That was all Artanis needed to hear. He needed not voice his feelings of gratitude and respect for his friend. He knew Fenix would know. He looked around, finally opening his eyes.

"This will do," he concluded. "Planetary Cracker!"

The energy output reached its maximum capacity and a blinding glow of aqua power matched only by the Xel'Naga artefact itself, materialized beneath the Shield of Aiur. The Hierarch's body shook as he tried to maintain the energy, funnelling it into one direction. And instantaneously, a forceful blast of white and blue crashed into the back of the Leviathan, searing its hide. It shrieked, taking out is fury on a squad of airborne Vikings, whose pilots were shocked that the beast could match their range. But the beast did not let up, it continued over the square, ignoring all fire, preparing to attack the Observatory. The Shield of Aiur followed it closely – already been bombarded with Scourge.

"We're not going out like this," growled Raynor. "All Battle Cruisers engage primary!"

"This is the Jackson's Revenge, moving into position, now."

"This is the Ardent, prepping cannon."

"Wallace is standing by."

"The Pinnacle is on route."

"Hades preparing for orbital strike."

One by one, the captains responded to their commander's call, each of them directing their ships close to each other, on top of the giant battle that could be seen even from space. Men bustled about, most running last diagnostic checks on the prized weapon that remained the only constant while BattleCruiser models were perpetually discontinued and replaced. Each lead engineer of every ship reported a green light to their captains, who were eager to fight. They'd honour the Galapagos.

Artanis cringed once again as his ship shook, getting hit by yet another barrage of Scourge. His shields were low and as he kept up his Planet Cracker, he could hardly imagine that his ship would survive much longer. However, he knew this would most likely happen. Another wave of Scourge approached - this one larger than the rest. The Hierarch was prepared for death. His subordinate wasn't.

A small golden ship manoeuvred his way around the shrieking Mutalisks and the giant Brood Lords, making its way close to its master. Prelate Urun would not see his leader die. He rested his ship between the Scourge and Artanis. His powerful ship, made solely for those pilots with enough power to command it, was covered in a blue hue. His weapon systems were preparing to exceed their capacity and Artanis realized what Urun would do.

"Away, Urun!" cried the Hierarch. "You will be left helpless against a counter-attack."

"That is the price I will proudly face to protect our people," whispered the esteemed Prelate. "Overload!"

His weapon systems were pushed to maximum. Its weapons fired all at once, launching dozens of flaming blue salvos at the scourge, systematically taking each out. It appeared as if several more cannons had appeared on Urun's ship for he was overloading all his weapons, firing them at once, giving off a larger area of destruction. The final Scourge had been destroyed and Urun rested. He checked his systems. Flight systems were down. Weapon systems were down. Tracking systems were down. He was dead in the air.

A lone Mutalisk, its wing injured by a firing marine, dove, avoiding the massive blue energy beam of the Protoss. It weakly headed, as directed, to the idle ship that was causing so much trouble. It screamed triumphantly as it began its descent, without bothering to fire off an attack of its own. Its orders were crystal clear.

Urun saw the Mutalisk coming. Moving his controls to either side, he resolved calmly that any evasive manoeuvre would be futile. He had sacrificed all mobility by overloading his weapons and protecting the Hierarch. He watched with anticipation as the winged zerg descended, further and further down – the dive steeping to extreme levels.

The Mutalisk launched itself into Urun's ship at its peak speed. The impact collapsed Urun's fuel cells. And in the blink of an eye, Prelate Urun was dead.

The Leviathan roared in delight. Its back showed cracks in the tough hide, where the beam was continuously striking, but it paid little attention. Its goal was the Observatory. A wink in the sky drew its attention.

"Jackson's Revenge away."

"Hades away."

"Ardent away."

"Husky away."

"Pinnacle away."

"Wallace away."

One by one, the ships fired from orbit. Their Yamato cannons had never seemed more daunting as a full blast from each was procured and fired down planet side. The orange barrage of fury only picked up power as it punched its way through the relatively weak atmosphere and continued descending at a blinding pace.

The Leviathan stopped dead in its tracks, being struck by the first Yamato round from the sky. It made to greet its new foe when another struck it. And then another and another. What appeared to be a near endless rain of orange continued smashing the Leviathan. Its shrieks were those of pain and failure. Its skin was broken and blood seeped from every open wound. Its tentacles hung loose and dead from its body. A whole in its belly let loose the storage of cocoons, no doubt housing more aerial units. They tumbled to the earth, satisfyingly exploding on impact. The Leviathan had but the strength to see the final blow racing towards him.

"Hyperion away."

The round struck the Leviathan's ugly face, and it exploded in a pulpy mass of blood and flesh. The remnants fell to Antioch. And the warriors threw down their weapons, raising their heads to the sky, praising the unseen ships. Even in the rain of blood, the Protoss charged through the streets, as if this red matter was an insatiable delight, a cold rain to soothe the aftermath of battle or a simply savage rejoice in the blood of their enemies. For not a single zerg remained on Aiur. And not a single Protoss was without joy.

The battle was over. The 3rd Siege of Antioch had ended. Aiur was free.

**Author's Note: FINALLY! I'm done with the Antioch fight! It took forever and I stretched it out for much to long but at least now, I can move on with the story. **


	24. Chapter 24

**Author`s Note: As the battle has winded down to a close, expect less action than previous chapters, but then again, action and battles have never been the focus of this story. Please enjoy!**

* * *

He squeezed his jar in his white-knuckled hands, closed tightly in the face of that woman on the television. He had not exactly been fair to her during her time under his employment, but then again, the world had not been kind to him, especially these days. His white clothed garments, his strict time schedule, his constant surveillance and his terrible meals – yes he had fallen quite far from his former stature. Behind him he felt the glares of opportunistic onlookers, waiting for the slightest break in character. He would show them none. Deliberately and dazedly so, he turned away from the screen, taking a quiet interest in a certain portion of the white wall, covered in foam, incapable of causing injury of any kind. They thought him suicidal. A little more of this food, he would turn homicidal. Grimacing inside, he went back to his peanut butter.

"This is UNN. I'm Kate Lockwell and this is your universal news network update. At long last, after much debate between the Dominion cabinet of defence and the Emperor himself, the Dominion Armada has found a new leader. A press conference was held early today, declaring the new commander in chief of the Dominion Fleet. General Winston Duke, the nephew of the late Edmund Duke and sole survivor of the Duke family – one of the notoriously powerful Old Families during the regime of the Terran Confederacy. As you all know, General Edmund Duke, the most highly decorated officer in both Confederate and Dominion history, met his end bravely fighting the Queen of Blades. His last kin, General Winston Duke has quietly risen up the ranks of the Dominion Armed Forces until amassing knowledge of devilish war tactics to rival his late uncle. The Emperor seems quite confidant of his choice and none of us here disagree. In fact, we have breaking news regarding the general's first act as commander of the Dominion Armada. Under the new command Dominion forces have engaged the terrorizing Hybrid, unleashed by one James Raynor – leader of the terrorist group Raynor's Rebels, once again on Tyrrador III. The reports show that they drove the creature off the planet. We must extrapolate from this that the creature has developed a form of interstellar flight," said Kate Lockwell, quietly. "The Dominion forces are already in hot pursuit. Unfortunately, this development comes late for the people of Brontes I of the Brontes System. Reports are streaming in that the Hybrid has struck there. Fortunately, damage has been kept to a minimum. The Brontes System, a strong supporter of the current regime, had the Advanced Dominion Colonial Militia to protect its citizens. Suffice to say, the loss of life has been very low and everyone here at UNN hopes it remains so. Emperor Mengsk has issued a formal warning to all systems to sparingly use interplanetary travel until this crisis has been averted. "

"Our newest puppet is performing better than we had hoped," mused Mengsk. "And we didn't even need to bribe her. Then again, we didn't do anything to her predecessor either. The UNN must attract the naive."

"Despite our regained control of the Fourth Estate, people are getting suspicious," mumbled Valerian. "People are wondering why Raynor had transported the Hybrid all the way to the Tyrrador System while he left the Castanar System perfectly unharmed. And our recent flight restrictions have left the Jandaara System increasingly unhappy. Their raising tariffs on exports to the Korhal System in spite of us while, rumour has it, they are engaged in free market negotiations with the Kel-Morians, just to keep their System Economy alive."

"The holes are small," resolved Arcturus. "We delivered them an attack on a mutinous system. When they questioned, we delivered them an attack on a loyal system. Though now that you mention it, it could seem rather odd that Dominion Worlds are the sole targets."

Valerian nervously anticipated the effect his remark would have upon his father and the Dominion as a whole.

"Very well," said Mengsk, clapping his hands together in excitement. "How about the...Sigma system with – let's see – ah, Orunu Sigma. Yes that'll do fine. We can strike to birds with one stone here. Let us reinforce the Hybrid's uncontrollability and remind those dear Kel-Morians exactly what planetary claims they are allowed to make...if any."

OOO

Kerrigan opened her eyes. The dim light of a glowing blue crystal illuminated the room. She sighed to herself, once again. She was coming here far too often. Her whole body felt exhausted – her muscles uncontrollably lax and only able to move with extreme coercion and difficulty on her part. She lifted her head from the uncomfortable pillow only to collapse it back down. A searing migraine tore through her brain. She moaned and tried to bring her hands up to her head, only to find that she could barely move them either. Overall, she felt like shit.

"We should name a ward after you," mused the recognizable voice of Doctor Hanson. "You're soon becoming our most distinguished permanent patient, Sarah."

"What's wrong with me?"

"You know very well what," replied the doctor, suddenly stern and cold. "I've seen this case plenty of times after my time as supervising physician for the Dominion Colonial Guard of Agria. You're hopelessly addicted Sarah. And even you must realize that by now."

"No," protested Sarah. "I'm still in...control."

Her strange dream replayed itself in her mind and she questioned the very words she had just spoken.

"So it was by your own accord that you assaulted two officers, abused their trust and made off with their gear?"

Sarah said nothing.

"You should have seen yourself, Sarah. We're barely managed to recover you. Somehow, you ended up deep in the green zone close to the Star Gates. It was only by an act of god that we were able to locate you. A malfunctioning observer spotted you and gave us your location. We had to pry your drowning body from the water and perform CPR to bring you back. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Her neck was awfully painful. She carefully chose her words, averting any that might spark the Doctor's frustration. "Do you have anything...for the pain?"

Kerrigan saw Ariel's eyes full of suspicion.

"Not stims or anything!" prefaced Sarah quickly. "You see, my head seems like it's about to fall in half."

"One of the many consequences of overdosing on that horrible substance," said the doctor. "The fact that we're even conversing is amazing. You're considerably lucky. Anyone else would have been dead or permanently comatose after that many injections, though it seems like you've made a name for yourself in the art of survival."

"Might have even set a world record?" mused Hanson. "And my answer is no. Absolutely not. Never. Don't even think about it. There is no way in hell were putting more drugs into your system after we've just flushed them all out. But the worst is yet to come. If you think this is bad, well you got another thing coming to you. Detox is a bitch."

Hanson heard the painful cry of another soldier. She cursed herself for spending so much time on a single patient, one of the whiniest she had encountered. She quickly turned away.

"Under whose orders am I being kept!" demanded Kerrigan loudly, stopping Ariel in her tracks.

Without turning back, Ariel muttered, "Matthew Horner, acting commander."

She left and Kerrigan was left with the sole activity of counting the fading clack of the doctor's heels. There was only one thought in her convoluted and pained head: Matt Horner. If she had the strength, Kerrigan would have at least made a fist or some sort of action to demonstrate her anger. She thought they had come to an understanding. And he saw her naked too! That was even worse! And then the latter half of Ariel Hanson's response, registered.

Her eyes widened in a shocking revelation.

"_Acting_ commander?"

OOO

"The sun has risen above a free Aiur four times now," sighed Artanis, contentedly. "And still, elation persists to the joy of all. Can you see it Zeratul? Fenix? Our people have hope! We can finally dismantle the refugee groups and let our culture begin to reform. We are not simply a people of war. We can start anew right here at the capital. In several months, we should be ready to move out to Scion and start a population there as well. Soon, we may well be able to repopulate the continent and move out east of the Wendar Sea to the forgotten continents of Aiur. As we speak, a psi-matrix is being established around the Dragoon Shrine. We may begin production in the near future!"

"I think I shall stay in this body," replied Fenix, distractedly. "As the battle ends, suspicion of me grows and I would rather not provide yet another outlet for the Hierarchy to test my tolerance."

"I already spoke to them," said Artanis, confused. "It was firmly declared that the matter was solely yours and any divulgence of whichever truth you wish to disclose would come from you. I thought I had made that clear."

"The Hierarchy seeks a formal inquiry over my return," said Fenix, icily thinking of them. "We rest at a peculiar position now, my friend. The death of Admiral Urun has shaken the balance of the Hierarchy. Where before, I believe it rested in equilibrium, now the civil council outweighs that of the martial council. And if the Conclave law of War Time Power Consolidation has still been kept by the Hierarchy, the extent of your authority has dwindled with the end of this crisis."

"Fenix is correct," echoed Mohandar, entering the room, silently as a Dark Templar would. "Hierarch, your word carries no more weight than mine or Selendis now. How infuriating that the spineless waste not a second of peace to begin the political games."

"Alas, we can do nothing but act accordingly," stated Executor Selendis, now entering the room. The Martial Council had been fully assembled. "The loss of Prelate Urun puts us at a loss not only in military strength but political clout. If there is one to second me, I will push forth the nomination of Honourable Zeratul."

"Even so, Hierarch Artanis has only the power of a single vote now," grunted Zeratul. "To put us back on equal ground, another must be accepted. Fenix is a prime candidate."

"The Civil Council will never allow Fenix to be voted into the Hierarchy," said Artanis instantly. "They would veto instantly, without hesitation. They are already unpleasant with the composition of the Martial Council. The membership of Executor Selendis has been...unpopular."

"May the day soon come when those fools realize the ludicrousness of their gender biased views," growled Selendis. "They have aged far too much and their minds turned weak with time."

"Regardless, we must keep a watchful eye on these untrustworthy Civil Councillors," mumbled Zeratul, thoughtfully. "Even now, there must be thought to attempt and subvert your rule, Artanis. But we have more urgent matters to discover."

The Hierarchy turned to Zeratul.

"I attempted to converse this earlier, but our fight did not allow it," prefaced the Dark Templar. "My mission to the corpse of the Overmind, it was successful. I made contact-"

"With Tassadar?" blurted out Selendis, uncontrollably.

A stern look from Artanis hushed the young Protoss commander.

"Yes," stated Zeratul. The room went quiet. Only the gentle ambient hum of a nearby Khaydarin Crystal steadily broke the apprehensive silence. "You remember what I spoke of with the innocence of the Overmind and a more sinister power at work. Believe me, you must adhere to those views, lest your faith be shattered this instant."

The silence gave wordless confirmation.

"Tassadar was subjected to become the product of an...unnatural hybridization. A Hybrids like those I spoke of, the ones I faced, ensnaring the Preservers, was created on Aiur with the spirit of Tassadar and the Overmind."

An explosion of protest, startling for such little company and high tolerance broke the tenuous silence at last, breaking out into cries of falsities and ignorance. Fenix roared otherwise while Selendis discredited Zeratul's claims and Mohandar rebuked similarly. Zeratul gazed at Artanis who was looking at him closely. He saw the sadness in the Hierarch's eyes as a clear understanding of legitimacy rang through in Zeratul's paroles.

"Quiet," ordered Artanis, softly.

The chatter dimmed at once. Mohandar and Selendis sat down at once while Fenix merely manoeuvred to the edges of the room.

Zeratul made to continue. "I was attacked by the Hybrid who was under the ensnaring control of Samir Duran, thought to be the Queen of Blade's chief lieutenant. In reality, he was little of the sort. I do not even know _what_ he was. He was neither his terran appearance nor his zerg allegiance. His master was not what I thought. He served one more vile and sinister, one which I believe to be a Xel'Naga."

"By the Gods," whispered Artanis. "A Xel'Naga? A survivor? How can this be? What business to our creators have in our demise? Should they not aid us in our plight instead of leading us to destruction?"

"Our fathers crave for our blood?" spoke Mohandar, shakily, his calm resolute demeanour all but gone in face of this new information.

"You speak of very disturbing things, my friend," said Fenix in a low tone.

"Zeratul would not bring about false information nor attempt to mangle the truth to his own desires," replied Artanis, standing. "It is inescapably clear now. Our fight is not finished. The enemy we face is one so powerful as to be responsible for our very existence. But if our actions here have showed us anything, even a God can fall. And if it stays course with its malicious intent, we _will_ see it so."

Fenix stepped forth. "The truth about Tassadar must never be known. He does not deserve the cruelties and presumptions that would be placed upon him. His death secured the destruction of the Overmind and the reclamation of his earned status. We cannot allow this to tarnish it once more."

"Very well," thought Artanis. "He shall remain Executor Tassadar, follower of the Khala, friend of the Dark Templar and hero of the Protoss. His name shall be forever exulted with the Greats. Never shall his zerg affiliations – however uncontrollably – be brought to light."

OOO

The cerebrate felt strangely alone. He could feel neither the scurry of zerglings nor the slithering of its Hydralisks. The rhythmic furious tremors of the stampeding Ultralisks were absent as was the constant slimy morphing of the ever populating larvae into greater and more grotesque things. Perhaps it was an effect of remaining on this charred broken world of Antiga Prime. Before contact with the Dark Voice, the cerebrate had nothing but time, time which he used to siphon every morsel of history from this planet's exciting and destructive past to his own amusement.

The location of the first large scale engagement between the crumbling old terran government and the rebellious radical which now ruled over much of the Korprulu Sector had taken place here as terrans fought terrans, their civil war ripping each other apart and failing to notice the zerg until it had made itself a main player in this bloody conflict. For three months all three had fought one another, sometimes playing one off the other, hoping to be granted an advantageous position to break this frustrating stalemate. There were notable moments however. Shooting down a terran General's ship titled Norad II was one of them. Of course then, the scheming terrans lured the zerg there and the second the swarm bore down on Antiga Prime, so did the Protoss who wasted no time in employing the fiend Tassadar to systematically erase the zerg existence- and all existence – from the face of the planet. But the zerg endured as only they could and through the negligence of the fleet ordered to destroy them, the zerg rebuilt their forces until a sizeable and more powerful zerg presence on Antiga Prime had reappeared, destroying what was left untouched by the Protoss. And it was this place, this acclaimed stronghold, where Kerrigan chose to dispose of her former protector. But the cerebrate knew this was no kingdom, no pride of the swarm. No, it was a backwater planet out of sight and mind from the ruling powers of the Sector. Its Hives and Hatcheries served only as a monument for a former zerg place of combat while lethargic zerg – their masters sleeping with inactivity – went about aimlessly. A few times, Antiga Prime was called upon by the swarm, but it was only to supply their increasing reserves of larvae which, due to indolence, had the largest infertile rate in the empire, at which point the aging monuments were activated only to serve as a mechanic supplier of zerg ranks.

This, of course, was long before the cerebrate's time. He, as he reminded himself with pride, was created at the peak of the zerg empire during the rule of the Overmind. His inception was intricately tied and timed with the birth of the Queen of Blades. What a disgrace and a farce it was that two beings so closely united to each other would have one betray and cast off the other, even refusing it death as a last means of pride, allowing one to live in humility at the sight of a glorious battle before its time.

That was all before the Dark Voice, before his return to glory and power. Through strange yet rewarding circumstances, the cerebrate, a beast without name, and risen even above his apex with Kerrigan to now lead the entire might of the zerg swarm a feat which proved unrelentingly overwhelming, even with the cerebrate's intricate overlaying neural complexities which allowed for wide multitasking. His desperate move on Aiur, even calling down their fiercest Leviathan, a zerg strain, which was becoming increasingly difficult to hatch, and even more difficult to successfully breed to maturation and adulthood. They had lost and decidedly. The combined fiendish armies of fimble terrans and blind Protoss had purged the planet of their presence and this time without the mystic power of their forefathers. But the cerebrate had a plan. Even now, eggs were being formed and hatching at a steady rate. In 6 months time, their losses would be recuperated, their ranks swelled, and their desire for revenge, salivating. All that was left to do, was wait. And the cerebrate, a master of time and the passing of it, was now an experienced adept at such a skill.

"I had thought," rang the cold voice, "that one who had fought with the Queen of Blades would be equal in her prowess. I was mistaken."

"Be careful of your tongue, dark one," hissed the Cerebrate, annoyed with the constant aggression he usually revelled in. "You rest on my world now. Such little words could carry very...detrimental consequences."

"You forget your place," hissed the voice, the atmosphere wildly dropping. "Even the slavish mind that you are must know my identity."

"And it matters little to me!" retorted the cerebrate, its voice loud with rage. "We conquered you long ago."

"A feat neither in your control nor theirs!" roared the Dark Voice suddenly. The bellow carried deep into the chasms of the Hive, echoing off the writhing walls into an empty space. It recollected itself and began again.

"It was my understanding of your race that you would act more effective and unified under the rule of one of your own," snarled the Voice. "That is why I _granted_ you power. You were the last cerebrate in existence. I allowed you to gain power while I sat back pulling the strings. However, in light of your most recent failure, it appears my pre-conception was wrong. Regretfully, a more direct approach is required."

The Voice had the Cerebrate's full attention. "Are you threatening me?" it asked.

"Threats are for those too weak to act," hissed the Dark Voice. "Kerrigan may have taken pity on you, but you will receive no such preferential treatment from me. How much of a shame it must be that your inglorious rule would last all but two months. No matter. It is time for me to have a direct hand in all of this."

The cerebrate turned its giant sluggish body, an action seldom required as most minions obeyed on thought and will alone. But the words of the Dark Voice had frightened it more than it would like to admit. Trying to face the voice, it found only darkness and emptiness where the voice had once been. An ancient sound erupted around him and he knew instantly what the Dark Voice had done.

OOO

2 bullets rang through the air. One went wide, destined to forever continue its misaligned course until gravity intervened. The other sank deep into exposed flesh, slicing its way through delicate organs and lodging itself firmly inside, which only exponentially added to the downpour of blood from the wound it left behind. It was small but its effect was catastrophic. It had done its job as its target fell down, the blood seeping down from the wound onto his peculiarly large blue armour, dented, battered and well used. The fruits of the bullet's labour continued to flow, sliding over the round shoulder pad, crossing over the strikingly beautiful and scantily clad painting of a miniature woman which had been one of the many distasteful decorations of the armour. It continued down till it the blood met the ground, not hard and earthy, mind you, but squishy and seemingly...alive. The bullet felt its brother, the casing, exit their rifle father and tumble down with a satisfactory feeling as he too crashed lightly against the creepy surface of the floor, still warm like the living.

A muffled conversation was detected by the bullet, the feeling of elation now quickly dying down to ponderings of the future. What would happen to it now that it had served its purpose? Was it destined to remain stuck in the throat of this dying man until his target decayed over the years and he was free only to trade a fleshy prison for an earthy one? The small bullet's thoughts faded as it seemed its consciousness was dying with its usefulness. It overheard a single line.

"Like old times," muttered the wielder of his rifle father.

Raynor was experiencing something akin to, what he assumed to be, the effects of the Queen Poison, now free of Doctor Hanson's countermeasure, coursing through his system and attacking his brain. He was watching himself on Char, killing Tychus, again, and again, and again. His sense of time was distorted and each blindingly painful death was as bad as the next. The only outlet for time was the number of Tychus' deaths Raynor had watched. Yet even that was lost as Raynor shuddered in terror, shielding his eyes from the cruel scene and covering his ears. Yet through the darkness of his eyelids and the heavy plugs of his hands, Raynor could still see the scene. The sound alone was enough to drive Raynor to near insanity. How many times had he seen this? 20? 30?

"Not this," he whispered desperately. "Let it end!"

And it did. The scene blurred and melted from his mind. He felt nothing, only a black sense of wonder. He wondered if this was what it was like to sleep a dreamless slumber. But this scene was too pulled from his mind, unwillingly as if another force was at work.

A boy stood before him, eyes bloodshot and longing for sleep. They were dead eyes, those that showed signs of drug induced symptoms. His hair, decidedly short and stoic unlike the care free lavish hair most would wield, was a light brown colour which greatly contrasted his unusual pale complexion as if he had been kept indoors receiving sunlight as a scarce commodity. His eyes, though dead, shone a mesmerising green and he opened his mouth to speak. His cracked lips parted revealing a deep mouth of blackness, utter darkness which spoke volumes to his chosen words and damaging paroles.

"Why didn't you cry?" he whispered.

Jim trembled from foot to toe. He was brought to his knees – the commander's mouth agape yet lost of words and his brain attempting to classify said vision as a fallacy. James Raynor reached out, his great arms shaking, just wanting to touch him.

"Why didn't you care?" he asked again, hissing with venom.

An explosion, so close in proximity, erupted behind the boy, who's nature stood firm and let the barrage of fire and carnage surround and engulf him, scorching Raynor's outstretched hand as the man tried in vain to procure the boy from the blast.

"JOHNNY!" Jim howled with such ferocity to set him back 10 000 years and reduce a civil man into a savage beast comprised of pain directed at an already shattered soul, one which would soon be forced to take up apathy as the last means of defence against an onslaught of anguish.

The scene froze and rewinded to Jim's immediate horror. And there was the boy again, fresh and ripe for the taking of another inevitable explosion, one so utterly fixed to the strict line of destiny that Raynor could not save him, no matter how hard or how many times he tried.

And so the commander watched again, and again, the greatest horror in his life, a horror even the powerful psychic Kerrigan had not been able to unveil.

For every explosion, a father witnessed his son die.

* * *

**Author`s Note: So as the battle has come to a close the loose ends are being tied up. Not exactly the most happy chapter given the time of year, but what can you do. My Christmas has been more or less ruined by factors you don`t care to know about nor do I care to talk about, but regardless, that means more free time for me to write, however it is that time of the year where I`m feeling a little lazy. Please continue to review, even if its just an anonymous review. Regardless of its stance, it will no doubt encourage me to continue writing through this holiday season. This probably won`t be the last update of 2010, but most likely the last one before Christmas. So before I forget, Merry Christmas or Happy nondenominational holiday! Have a good one guys.**


	25. Chapter 25

"We have half an hour!" cried Lockwell. "If I don't have that story by then, I swear someone's cleaning out their office! What do you have!"

A young blonde journalist quickly piped up, out of self-preservation and fear. "Our contact with the Nephor II explosion has gone silent. We haven't been able to reach him."

"Jesus," muttered Kate Lockwell. "We were making some real progress with that story. Well, scrap that. What else we got?"

"The Editor-in-chief wants you to rethink about pushing the Raynor story to the top story," called another man.

"Well screw Anderson," replied Lockwell, angrily. "Tell our Executive Producer to piss of as well. That'll be the third slander in a week! Our broadcast can't survive on just that! What about the report of Tyrador IX Superintendant Regina resigning in protest? Any leads on that?"

"At this point it's just another rumour," replied another subordinate, frustratingly. "And we all know how many of those are floating around."

"Miss Lockwell, you have a contact wishing to speak with you. He says it'll be the story of the year."

"I've heard that before," she grumbled. "When?"

"Right now, mam. He wants to meet at the Augustgrad Correctional Facility."

"Why am I surprised?" Lockwell asked herself. "Leave it to a nut to be scrapping for a story. Damn it. I might as well check it out. I'm going to have to send one of the interns to cover the Norad IV unveiling in my absence. Well...oh I know! Get a Delegate for the Koprulu Trust – I don't care if he's Umojan – and run some story about the financial state of the Dominion – spin it however the producer wants to, I just want a story!"

Lockwell took the elevator down as the sickening feeling in her stomach began and would ensue for the next half minute. She took deep breaths and engaged in slight introspection. Being the lead anchor was...different. She couldn't deny that the job was just as hard as her planet hopping reporter days. Yet she missed those days. Those days, she said whatever she wanted, of course often cut off by Vermillion, yet at the end of the day, she knew she had made an effort to tell the unmitigated truth and it left her with a clear conscience. She wasn't so sure these days. She agreed that Raynor had to be brought to justice. She lost count of the times she cursed herself for buying his bullshit story back on Haven. The stories coming in about the Hybrid were...monstrous. The fact that she had been smoothly manipulated by the man responsible was an infuriating thought indeed.

But she knew the Dominion wasn't a saint either. They were being increasingly difficult in landing Fringe World reports ever since the zerg retreat. Kate Lockwell suspected that they would be trying to cover and minimize the devastation of the war from the general public rather than before where they showcased it to further the militarism ideology that Mengsk had been determined to institute. A Dominion official was at her office once a week trying to hinder and impede the ongoing Nephor II investigation by one of Lockwell's reporters until her Producer finally got the balls to tell him off. And now their lead had suddenly gone dark, just as they were getting close to the truth. The Kel-Morian embassy had been closed down without warning leading to much protest from the ambassadors. Any reporting of it had been prohibited with the Dominion giving some crap excuse that foreign dignitaries (or former in this case) were entitled to a degree of privacy. But people knew the truth. The rumour was quickly solidified as fact and it helped that the Kel-Morian ambassadors were very vocal about the matter. That was until they systematically vanished. Official records stated that they boarded transports back to Moria while independent reports suggested otherwise. A little birdie told Kate that the Umojan embassy might well follow, although so far, they had been playing their cards right.

Lockwell was also keeping a close eye on the remaining political hierarchy that remained after Emperor Mengsk took power. Even after the fall of the capital world Tarsonis, there were still large and influential terran forces that remained independent and could cause trouble to the newly forming government. Kate didn't miss the fact that nearly every influential and adamantly opposed individual to the Dominion with enough sway to catch attention, had somehow risen to the ranks of Planetary Superintendants and even Systemic Chancellors. They were bought off, Lockwell was sure of that. And coupled with the fact that many of these powerful people were members of the Old Families with histories of power abuse, life in the Dominion was no doubt bleak. Though then again, Kate should have probably thanked those rich pompous asses who had traded one wealth for another similar to their political allegiances. It was because of them that the Dominion wasn't under absolute dictatorial control. They were the last forms of defence against the totalitarianism that seemed more prominent every day. Kate Lockwell counted her graces. Thank god that – excluding alien affairs – the Emperor's decisions were forced to be reviewed and approved by at least 6 of the 12 Systemic Chancellors. But with so many of them likely in Mengsk's pocket, the limit of power was largely inconsequential. No Imperial order had ever been overruled by the Chancellors and if the powerful 12 wished to keep their positions, it was likely to stay that way.

At least Lockwell could count on the fact that at least most of the Planetary Superintendants appeared to be sincere. Although subordinate to the Systemic Chancellors, the Superintendants carried a great deal of weight. Unlike the Chancellors - who were chosen by the Dominion to govern their respective systems - the position of Superintendant – voted leader of the planet – was one of public office. Many tyrants Mengsk had elevated to quiet them, had been forced out of office by angry citizens leaving the position for genuine rulers. Tyrador IX Superintendant Catherine Regina had been one of these people, benevolent to the core and as cunning as one could be. It disturbed Kate greatly that the woman had resigned, abandoning her people simply to make a point. This was one story she would definitely be following up with.

The elevator ceased and Lockwell tiredly exited, only to be shuffled into the nearest transport ship. Noisily yet undeniably quick, Kate soon found herself at the doors of the Augustgrad Correctional Facility and in the Psych ward no less. She mentioned she was meeting a contact here to the staff, who were taken aback, yet quickly ushered her in with grace. The presence of such a known individual seemed strange for this dark facility. She was lead into a private room with nothing but a metal desk and uncomfortable chairs. She sat down as the lights brightened, only to reveal another individual across the table from her. He sported a fine auburn moustache and gripped a jar of peanut butter protectively. Her eyes widened with shock.

"Donny?" she asked, tentatively.

OOO

Kerrigan fidgeted in agony. She paced around her room, clutching her insides. The terrible throb in her neck continued to ensue and she had already relieved her stomach twice that morning. Her eyes, bloodshot and showing sleep deprivation were dimly lit, the bright green liveliness fading away. Her skin quivered and she felt as if she needed to let loose. She wanted to scream and smash anything she could with as much force as she could muster. Alas, she knew she couldn't. Any sign of aggression would only lead to further containment and in her current state, Sarah would tire herself out before she made a dent. Her red hair was dripping with water, which rhythmically provided metonymy in the form of the constant drips of water droplets. Every once in a while, she could hear soft murmuring just beyond the doorway. They were hushed and spoke in cautious tones, fearing that the extent of Kerrigan's supernatural powers enhanced her hearing. She knew they were all talking about her, first in distrust for her past as the Queen of Blades and now with disdain for becoming a helpless addict. Her face contorted with rage at the thought. The whole lot of them, SCV corps and communications officers, they didn't know the first thing about what she had gone through. If any other person had seen what she had seen, had experienced what she had experienced...it would be justified. And so was she. What did the SCV workers know? They sat back, draining resources from rich worlds with no danger. They rarely ever went out to do field repair. No they insisted that the damaged machinery be brought back to HQ to be fixed under the veil of safety. And the communications officers? They were a joke! Sitting back while true soldiers did the fighting and they relayed messages of despair and misery with calm demeanour while better men and women died. And given how damn unreliable communications were, Kerrigan wondered how apt the officers really were. They were unappreciative vermin, all of them. They sat back and judged her while Sarah knew she had done ten times what they had and sacrificed even more.

Sarah weakly climbed back into her tub. The water, now lukewarm at best, still provided the ghost with a degree of comfort, even as the heat was dying. It enveloped every bit of her, much like the creep, though without its malevolent qualities. She closed her eyes and submerged herself within the water. It was cold, uncomfortable and yet soothing all the same. Kerrigan felt at ease here, or at least less sickened. And as the days passed by and Kerrigan sat alone in isolation as the effects of the drugs continued to take their toll on her, all she thought of was her dream. Where had the water gone?

From a vantage point above the room, the perceptive Ariel Hanson watched intently. Her mind, forever scarred with the horrifying injuries she had attempted to correct after the devastating battle, felt an ounce of sympathy and a little remorse at her previous cold demeanour. No one truly knew what she had gone through. No one but Raynor. The risk was large. There was no guarantee that two destructive forces would resolve into beneficial ones. Putting the two of them together could provide the proximity for them both to be delivered a peace of mind or be fully engulfed in their unknown origin of despondency. But Horner was insisting. Ariel hardly believed that the commander had awoken from the poison induced dream. He was downright delirious when he came out of comatose. She had suspected that there were lingering after-effects from the venom, but a full body scan had proven otherwise. Whatever he had been exposed to while under the poison, had damaged him beyond anything she had ever seen. She decided to rethink Horner's proposal.

Horner sighed, grabbing another used bottle that had rolled up noisily to his foot. The sound of glass grating insufferably against the jagged ground was enough for any man to cringe, at least the sober ones. He took a whiff of the empty bottle, its contents still leaving a lingering odour of definite alcohol, and a strong one at that. Looks like his commander had busted out his reserves. He wanted to forget as quickly as he could.

"I thought we decided that I wouldn't be cleaning up after you anymore," called Horner.

A pause was experienced before Raynor, who did nothing to face his speaker, responded. "This ain't your problem, Matt. It ain't your responsibility. I ain't asking nothing of you and if you know what's good for you, I'll say this one more time: Leave it alone."

It ended in a growl, more slurred than angered as the alcohol was taking effect.

"You're our commander," continued Horner, heatedly. "You have a responsibility to your men! They rely on you to make sure they get out all right or at least that their lives would be worth something. Instead you're a drunk, falling into old patterns. It's damn well my business _and_ my responsibility. I can't let you jeopardize your men's lives. I won't."

"Well then, maybe I'm just not up to the task anymore," said Raynor with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe my time's over and you should take over."

"You don't mean that," sighed Horner, shaking his head. "I'm just talking to a wall, as usual. When are you going to learn to put down the bottle?"

"About the same time when you learn that life isn't all sunshine and daisies!" bellowed Raynor, leaping from his chair, the toppled object falling to the floor with a resonating clang. There was dead silence in the air, tension as thick as mud and eyes from both parties glaring daggers at once another.

"Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do!" continued Raynor, stepping closer to his second-in-command. "I ain't gonna be patronized by someone who doesn't know a thing about true loss, true suffering. You think everyone can act like you? You expect everyone to act according to your set of rules? Guess what? You're a lucky man amongst unfortunate people, alright! We don't got the comfort you do! We don't go through our lives without any real loss. Tell me, Matt, what did you lose, huh? What have you lost?"

Horner didn't respond.

"That's what I thought," said the inebriated man, flatly. "Until you know what it's like to lose a wife...a son...then Leave. It. Alone."

Resigned, Horner backed away, making his way to the door. Before leaving, he stopped as the doors hissed open.

"I have lost something," he declared, looking away. "I lost a commander. I lost a friend."

The steady beat of his boots gave Raynor notice to his absence. He sat alone, moving only to bring more liquor to his throat and corrupting his mind. He lost track of time. Soon, he didn't know how long he had been drinking. Attempts to stand up suggested that it was on the extreme side. However, with nothing but empty bottles around his table, Jim begrudgingly lifted himself up, cursing loudly as he tripped over the toppled chair. He made his way out of the room, barely acknowledging the guards' salutes and greetings. With a supporting arm on the corridor's wall, he groped his way forward, aimlessly. He had neither goal nor sobriety and his feet moved for no reason at all. He wandered about for what seemed like hours, each passing guard eyeing him worriedly yet not brave enough to object to their intoxicated leader.

Somehow, Raynor had found some more liquid courage, snagged from a lowly NCO who had surrendered it quickly and without protest. Any motor improvements he was making were obsolete the second he replenished his bodily supply of alcohol. He had to stay drunk. He had to stay oblivious. The memories were dull and faint with every passing gulp. And Raynor was doing all he could to maintain that state.

He found himself looking at a window, dumb and ignorant. He must have been standing there for minutes without looking. He shook his head and peered inside. He saw a woman bathing in a tub of water, strangely clothed still, perhaps to assure modesty against any onlookers like himself. The woman sat idly in the body of water, her face devoid of emotion. Every once in a while she'd grip her stomach and massage her neck, but to no avail. Despite her stubborn demeanour, every so often, she let out cries of anguish and pain. She thrashed her neck uncontrollably, trying to rid herself of what she was going through. Her bright hair flew around her like the bright red flames encircling a precious star. Her eyes opened and Jim thought he saw a gateway to all things wonderful and terrible in those green eyes, painfully dull and precisely glaring.

The standstill continued. Out of sheer anger, Kerrigan held her gaze while Jim held his out of a drunken stupor. It ended only when Sarah ducked her head down, once again, relieving her stomach. Another meal gone to waste.

"What'd you do, Sarah? Hanson apparently didn't take out all the crazy bitch out of you," slurred the commander.

"I did what I had to," spoke Kerrigan through clenched teeth.

"You broke an officer's jaw and fractured the ribs of a medic. You nearly cost 2 marines their lives when they pried your drowning body from the water. You're definitely making an impression, girl, just not in the way you'd hoped."

"Screw you," she whispered, words laced with venom. "I know what I did. I know it was wrong and I'm paying the consequences under Horner's orders no less. You sit there behind this thick reinforced door, judging me. Go ahead. Pass judgement on me since you're too much of a coward to turn your critical view back on yourself. Keep drinking your booze, you coward! Keep drinking and have the temerity to judge me. Imagine that? A drunk passing judgement on a drug addict. You think you're better than me? You think this wall separates us in any more ways than physically? We're in the same boat, two sides of the same coin."

"You're out of control," growled Raynor. "You almost got your allies killed."

"You _did_ get your allies killed!" yelled Kerrigan, who would have stood up would she have the strength. If she had the strength, she would have done a number of things, such as tear the metal door off its hinges and shake the man before her until a sense of reality returned to him. "Don't think I don't know about that! Horner told me all about it. He told me how you were just having _one of those days_."

The sarcasm did not elude Jim, even in his inebriated haze. He gripped the bottle tightly.

"You don't know what happened down there," he said menacingly.

"Oh yes I do," jeered Kerrigan, furious and livid. "You just had to crack open one bottle. And then it turned into two bottles and then five and then many more after that! You ordered a platoon to their deaths on Tarsonis. _You_ were out of control. You marched your men, who trusted you implicitly, straight into the Dominion's Marauder Kill-team. The last of the platoon who made it back, died within hours."

"19 marines dead!" she roared, finally the apex of her fury reaching upper limits of devilish qualities. "19 brothers lost, 19 fathers gone, 19 sons spent and 19 of _your _men killed by _your _doing! And supposedly, _I_ am the one out of control. Well then I'd like to see you out of control. Because if this ain't it, I don't know what is."

Raynor's eyes looked dangerous. The empty bottle had long since been discarded softly. It rolled across the floor, almost trying to escape back to its owner. He smashed his fist against the metal frame of the door. Breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, Raynor was barely holding it together. The sound of loud clanking boots, forced his attention to be turned. Behind him, two marines stood ready with Horner behind them.

"What the hell are you playing at?" snarled Raynor.

"I'm sorry sir," said Matthew Horner. "But it's for your own good."

The heavy metal door hissed open and Raynor was forcefully pushed into the room by the soldiers who promptly sealed it quickly. He was trapped now, in this room who's sole inmate was the one he looked disdainfully upon, superiorly so. He regarded the inmate as an unfortunate soul who's mind had subtle been corrupted with the substance she had used to keep herself sane.

He didn't belong here...did he?

OOO

"Still remember me, do you?" asked the former lead anchor, with an uncharacteristic hearty laugh. "Didn't suspect you would. I'm old news, you know? Ha! Old News! Get it!"

"Donny, did you call me down here?" asked Lockwell, the initial shock wearing off into frustration.

"Sure did," he said, rather quick. "You know, I haven't had a lot to do since I got here. They don't let us do much because they think we're all crazy, you see? Now, I wouldn't say crazy, per se, but maybe just a little wild, you know? So anyway, I'm thinking about past stories. I got one that bugged me pretty bad now. It's like I can't remember it! And I think you were the lead reporter on that story! You'd be able to go check the records and remind me, see? I remember all of my stories except for that one. And you know me, a perfectionist, through and through. If I'm gonna be stuck here for a while, and I suspect I will, it can't hurt to have the good memories to keep me company, right? It's gotta be full, you see? I don't want any holes in my beautiful record."

Kate gripped her coat, furiously. Her eye twitched and to those who knew her, it was a sign of trouble.

She started slowly. "Donny, did you just call me down to refresh your memory? Do you know that I'm the new lead anchor and my job responsibilities outweigh any to my former boss? You forget something and you call me here to help you! I'm missing the unveiling for the Norad IV for this! You said you had a scoop!"

Donny Vermillion chuckled to himself. "Had to get you down here somehow, didn't I?"

The lead anchor stood up coldly, putting on her coat and prepared to leave. The former lead anchor followed similarly.

"No don't go yet!" said Donny, frantically waving his arms. "Like I said, I've been doing a bunch of looking back, you know? And I gotta apologize for the way I acted to you. I kept cutting you off, never letting you finish. It's a big regret of mine that I wasn't a better employer. So here."

The man stuck out his arm, giving his jar of peanut butter to the stunned lead anchor.

"It's my most precious possession, you know," warned Vermillion. "So don't go eating it all up at once. And maybe you could come back again, you know, with the missing story. I think it's the one right after that big story with that Umojan fellow and all. So if you'd do me one big favour and check it out, I'd be most appreciative. So check up on it, enjoy the gift, and come back soon!"

Not knowing what to do, Kate received the jar of peanut butter and also received a beaming smile from her former boss as she took his gift. Shaking her head slightly, she turned away and exited the room.

"What a nutcase," she muttered.

OOO

"Your demands are outrageous!" roared Zeratul.

"Careful," warned the Civil Council. "Your admittance to the Martial Council was approved upon the basis of your reputation, reputation which you know seem to have disregarded in favour of savage and uncivilized disruptions."

"Had I known this council was filled with the blind, I'd have long since retracted my request," retorted the old warrior.

"Are you one to question _our_ judgement, Great one?" asked the Civil Council. "Was it not you who disrupted the leadership of the Dark Templar only to forsake it when the leadership of its people called upon you? You forget who we are, mighty Zeratul. We are not simply 5 convening Protoss. We are the people. Would you risk defying them yet again?"

"That is quite enough," snapped the Hierarch, hoping his intrusion would calm Zeratul's rising anger. "Zeratul's objections are not unshared by the rest of the Martial Council. This act could lead us from our precarious peace back into disaster."

"Peace?" questioned the council. "What peace is there when our streets are filled with warriors and our skies covered with warships? What peace is there when we are led by one who has continuously led us into further and further years of fighting and battle."

"That is the Protoss way," stated Artanis.

"Community is the Protoss way!" roared the council, who's harmonious voices quelled any objections. "Democracy is the Protoss way! Parity is the Protoss way! This is why we exist, Hierarch. The Protoss have been through many hardships, many difficulties throughout our meagre existence in the grand span of the infinite ocean of space and time. Never has the Protoss been led by a singular head. Your inauguration as Supreme Leader of the Protoss was an act of desperation, not adaptation! The Protoss will never yield to a singular head, never! And in your savage bloodlust, your...warmongering, you would see us turn from a communal race into an authoritarian one like that of the Terrans!"

Silence was bitter to both sides of the council.

"The Protoss are defined by more than battle," said the council, once more. "How can we proclaim peace while preparing for war? The martial council did its duty and now it is our turn to do our part. Our Warriors served us greatly, but now is not the time to plunge further into senseless militarization. We must rebuild. And we cannot do so with the precious resources wasted on our fleets."

"You are demanding the full demobilization of Protoss forces," stated Executor Selendis numbingly, as if she didn't believe the very words she was thinking. "You would have us abandon our defences to revive books long lost from sight and reason, leaving us vulnerable to another attack while we sift through our art in a mistaken sense of safety."

"What do we have if not our culture?" asked the council.

"We have our lives!" protested Selendis, in vain. "We have the fire bestowed upon us and we have each other. I would burn a thousand of our oldest archives than see my comrades burn in the coming firestorm brought forth by powers unknown to us."

"Then we are thankful that you are not near one at this time," replied the Civil Council. "Brothers, there is no need for quarrel here. The time of war is over. Peace must be allowed to flourish now in the wake of victory of the highest degree. Demilitarization will not have to be enforced immediately. It may be spanned over several months to assure the smoothness of our transformation."

"As Hierarch, I-"

"THIS IS A DEMOCRACY, YOUNG ARTANIS! NOT A DICTATORSIHP!"

An uncomfortable feeling, which sprung from the roots of the conversation now covered the room in a blanket of fresh tension and nerve-racking silence. Another singular sigh of the council was heard as they recollected themselves as one.

"The vote stands at 5-4 for demobilization," said the council. "We will leave it to you to plan out the schedule of this course of action."

Holding his tongue, so to speak, Artanis briskly exited the room lest his anger get the better of him and leap at the council as if they were zerglings. Silently, the other members of the Martial council followed. Fenix came up behind, slower due to his robotic shell.

"Just a moment," spoke the council.

Fenix apprehensively turned towards the council alone and silent.

"We know the truth...Archon."

* * *

** Author's Note: Please tell me what you think. The following chapters will be a bit slower than previous battle ones but hopefully not boring. I'm going to have to ask you guys to be patient with me. Studying for my bar exam takes precedence over this and will probably result in another week or two void of updates, but don't panic, I'm still around and I'm in it for the long run. Thanks for reading and please review.**


	26. Chapter 26

Fire, explosions and screams lit the dark sky of the humble world. A giant stood above them all, descending with unmitigated strength and uncontrollable power.

Lieutenant Ventes had never seen anything like it in his life. He was solely focused on saving as many people as he could. Their city wasn't anything special. It wasn't small enough to relay a cozy town feeling nor large enough to convey grandeur and spectacle. It was a mediocre city established near the plentiful mining facility built into the mountain. That had been the first building to go. The supports couldn't handle the force. Ventes didn't even want to think about how many people died and worse, how many people were still alive down there in the mines. The mine employed roughly 70% of their city workforce. That was just over 5000 workers who were either given a swift death or an agonizing end. Ventes further didn't want to think about his men. His detachment had assigned to protect the mining guild from the various mercenary groups that tended to try and take a crack at the rich mineral deposits every so often. They had seen a little action. They had fired their weapons once or twice. And they had lost a man or two. But this was on a whole other scale.

Panic was the consensus amongst the mob of civilians who dashed across the streets, trying in vain to get to the nearest Starport. The more informed ones had already been notified of its destruction and those who didn't would soon get a rude awakening in the form of the crumbling remains of a building – their last hope against this singular destructive onslaught. The lieutenant struggled to keep his own cool. But Ventes breathed deep and kept running through the streets, ushering civilians to the city square where they could possibly find transportation. Some people were even rolling out their old Vulture bikes to escape the city. All communications between the municipal leadership had been lost. Ventes scrambled over another remains. The very bellow of this monstrosity forced the seasoned combatant to his knees and every step it took shook the ground with enough force to throw the lieutenant around like a rag doll.

Unsteadily climbing to his feet, the Lieutenant, bellowing at the top of his lungs to any civilian willing to hear, escaped the confining narrow street into a clearing. The monster was in sight. Ventes kept low, trying to avoid detection as he slowly began moving back. Something caught his eye. There were men nearby! Not just men but soldiers! Reinforcements had come. Ventes was elated enough to abandon his carefulness and cry with joy. But the smile fell from his face and a look of confusion stained it. The soldiers were not fighting the creature. They were...shepherding it. An unsettling realization dawned upon the Lieutenant the second he saw the Dominion Armada insignia branded upon one of the marine's armour.

Ventes retreated to a safe distance. He grabbed his long distance radio, hoping that someone from a nearby town would receive this.

"This is Lieutenant Ventes of the 3rd Militia Detachment under the command of Colonel Mitchell, presumed killed in action. Orunu Sigma has been attacked; repeat Orunu Sigma has been attacked. Now listen closely."

OOO

"How'd the follow up go?" asked one of Lockwell's employees, Marcus.

"Complete waste of time," sighed Lockwell, taking another sip of coffee and not elaborating beyond that.

"Ah, that's a shame. The Norad IV coverage didn't go so smooth. General Winston had some colourful language that we had missed censoring. Might get a fine or two from that. Anderson's definitely going to be on my ass about that one. Any way, I'm taking off. You should too. It's past 10. Pulling these all-nighters ain't good, especially in these exciting times."

"See you tomorrow," murmured Lockwell, eyes glued to her monitor.

The busy anchor looked over a story they'd be running tomorrow, taking out some bits and adding a bit of her own personality to the script. Undoubtedly, in the morning, it'd be passed onto her Executive Producer and then through Dominion censors before she'd get it back. On lucky days, she'd only see a few black censor bars. On bad ones, the Dominion would outright forbid the broadcasting of a particular story. Finishing faster than she had thought, Lockwell sat idly in her office, lazily looking up the latest rumours, more for entertainment purposes than journalistic devotion. She glazed over a few rumours suggesting a romantic involvement between herself and Prince Valerian. Another one claimed that the rampant Hybrid was being controlled by the Dominion. It was the same story everywhere. Each claimed something huge yet none could back it up with any evidence whatsoever. Kate Lockwell laughed when she saw the rumour that the United Earth Directorate was preparing another offensive into the Koprulu Sector. They had been decidedly defeated last time. That seemed like the only good thing to come of the zerg.

Lockwell stopped on a certain story. It claimed Donny Vermillion was actually a robot. She let her gaze rest on the story, not for legitimacy purposes but the reminder of her brief conversation with him. The ridiculously heavy jar of peanut butter was still in her

Furious tapping on the keyboard opened several files on Lockwell's screen. They lit her face in the dark room. Night had come and she was the last person in the building. She looked in the archives for whatever Donny was looking for. Truth be told, she hadn't a clue why she was doing this. She definitely didn't like her old boss and had very little sympathy for him when he went insane. This wasn't pity so what was it?

_Reports are coming in that during the early evening in Augustgrad, someone has broken into the throne office of Emperor Mengsk. Dominion Armed Forces are on the scene now, and have neither confirmed nor denied these speculations which seem to be more and more accurate with each passing moments. According to a disclosed source, the felon was allowed admittance into the building. What happened next, we can only speculate. However eyewitnesses claim they are seeing multiple bodies being carried out on stretchers. Could this be the felon? Or is it the bodies of guards who got in the felon's way? We don't know either way, and the Dominion is keeping tight lipped about this. But if the reports are true, the Emperor's study houses the most vital and important documents in the Dominion. If someone has gained access to these things, the Dominion could be in a lot of trouble. Whoever illegally broke into the Emperor's study is now a felon on par with the likes of the notorious James Raynor. This seems highly probable after Prince Valerian's controversial quote that the Emperor's study was more secure than the entire planetary defences of any Fringe World Colony, a quote which sparked outrage from the Fringe Worlds._

_ This is the second attack on the throne in the past week after the botched assassination plot against Emperor Mengsk by Umojan extremists, a still ambiguous chain of events which resulted in the deaths of the three supposed Umojan assassins. As with the assassination plot, the Umojan Protectorate has offered no statement and everyone here at UNN believes their increasing aggression to be...unsettling. For the Universal News Network, this is Kate Lockwell._

Kate remembered the story now. She shook her head as she watched her own amateurish reporting styles. She had much matured from that story and many thought it to be her big break. It all came back to her now. Though the Dominion censors hadn't been fast enough to stop the Kate from airing the story, much to their and Anderson's disdain, her producer absolutely forbid her from saying what she and most others were beginning to suspect. If someone had been able to circumvent the Emperor's study and bypass all of its extreme security measures, not only would they have to be tremendously skilled, but purposely driven. She was almost sure it was theft. All signs pointed to it. The constabulary were denied access by Dominion Armed Forces claiming that matters concerning the Emperor fell outside the jurisdiction of law enforcement. That was yet another blow to the pride of the dwindling police force.

Allegedly, Mengsk kept all his personal documents inside a safe within his study. So many secrets rested inside that sacred room, enough for Lockwell to begin developing elaborate theories on what the felon might have stolen and how much. After months of quietness, it seemed, however that theft wasn't the motivation or at least the theft turned up with little substantial data. Not a word of slander or unreleased documents had been heard of. Nothing else was ever heard of that incident.

One did not attain her position in the media without knowing that something strange was afoot here. But alas, the nostalgia brought back the irritating bewilderment that Kate had forgotten. Why had Donny asked her to see this? She had wasted an evening sitting alone in the office, slaving away at documents to find the one thing he deemed important enough to call her.

"He really is a lunatic," sighed Lockwell, grabbing her bag, making to leave. She grunted as the weight of the peanut butter forced both her hands to the task. Even more annoyed, she removed the jar of peanut butter from the bag, placing it firmly on her desk.

"What's with the peanut butter?" she asked herself.

Unscrewing the lid, she peered inside. Her eyes widened with shock. There were simple symbols on the surface of the peanut butter. Barely legible and hardly complex, Kate stared at the engraving which stared back at her with haunting simplicity.

_GET ME OUT_

OOO

"Are we not going to talk at all?" asked Sarah, finally breaking the perpetual silence in the room.

"Nothing to talk about," gritted Raynor, staring at the opposite wall. "Nothing you would want to hear."

"Try me," said Kerrigan, tiredly

Her stomach felt a little more calm now and the bitter taste of her own regurgitated aliment was less and less prominent. Her bodily situation however, differed far from that of the room's. Raynor had proceeded to sit down and stay silent for the better part of three hours. Her occasional vomits and Raynor's incessant tremors in his extremities filled the room with empty silence of bitter and tenuous qualities.

"I'm just thinking about all the ways I want to kill Matt once I get out of here," said Raynor, still averting her gaze.

Silence fell upon the pair once more.

"It's for your own good," she said quietly. "Don't blame him too hard."

Raynor's voice was cold. "I can't believe he even assumes to know what's best for me."

"Do you?"

"What does that mean?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed, her vision clearing and her glare attempting to sear a hole through the back of Jim's head just to be acknowledged. "You think it's in your best interests to drown yourself in alcohol and keep yourself consistently inebriated?"

"You wouldn't understand," Raynor declared.

"Make me!" said Kerrigan, loudly pounding her fist on the walls of her tub, regretting it instantly as both the impact and the sound hurt her hands and ears terribly. It seemed to affect Raynor similarly, amplifying his already painful migraine.

"Not now," he sighed, dipping his head within his large hands. "The headache is killing me. Just got to make it through a little longer then I can get out of this godforsaken room."

"_Your_ headache is killing you?" asked Sarah, incredulously.

"Yeah, it's alcohol withdrawal symptom," said Raynor.

"Sounds to me like a glorified hangover," remarked Sarah. "You think you're getting out of here so soon, think again. These things take a long time, longer than 3 hours anyway. I reckon I've been here for a few days at least. I puke my guts out every morning and after every meal. My whole body aches and I swear there's a little bastard up in my head trying to bash it in with a chisel. I got it worse than you and we both know that. So don't try to pass off conversation using trivial pains as an excuse."

"Why do you want to talk?" he demanded, tiredly.

"Why don't you?" questioned the exasperated woman. "You're screwed up, Jim. We both are. I need to talk about it and so do you. It'll help."

Raynor turned, finally facing Sarah. She was in shock as she gazed into his eyes. They were the eyes of a ghost, riddled with sorrow and anguish, the likes of which she would not soon forget. She had now wished she hadn't seen his eyes. Something drastic had happened and it showed.

"You first," he whispered.

"Fine," concluded Kerrigan stoically. "Ask away."

"What's with the tub?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," corrected Raynor, sitting up straight, "why have you been in there for so long?"

"Fair enough," sighed Kerrigan, lifting herself from the lukewarm water. She wrapped a towel around herself before her bare feet stepped on the metal floors, sending a shiver up her body. "The water is where I feel the safest. I'm a damn good swimmer, you know. I know that when I'm in the water, I'm in control."

"Funny," said Raynor, dryly. "Your designated safe haven is the one that nearly killed you a couple days ago."

"That was...that was my own damn fault and don't think I don't know it," said Sarah hastily. "But you must have realized this at some point since you were banking on it to hold Antioch as I recall correctly. The zerg can't swim. They can't adapt to the water. For whatever reason, the water repels them. And that's why I surround myself with it."

"Are you so afraid of the zerg that you had to turn on terrans?" asked Raynor softly.

"What the hell does that mean?" responded Sarah, sharply.

"You know what it means," pressed Raynor. "I don't have to remind you what you did. And for what? A few stims? This is your life we're talking about here! What the hell happened?"

"Talk about a loaded question," sighed Kerrigan.

"I'm serious. How the hell did you end up like this?"

"The first time I took the stims was to survive," started Sarah. "Something happened in the jungle when Nova and I were separated. Don't ask me what it is. I can't tell you. Anyways, suffice to say, I needed it, at least then."

"Does it have something to do with those dogtags?" asked Raynor, delicately.

Kerrigan paused, grasping the cold metal around her neck before removing it and carefully placed it on the table behind her. And she continued.

"It was a long day. I kept encountering more situations where I needed the stims, or so I convinced myself. The more and more I used them, the less and less I had an excuse for them. I found myself instinctively wanting them."

"But how'd you become an addict in little under 3 da-"

"I wasn't an addict!" snapped Kerrigan loudly. "Believe me, Jim, I've come to terms with what I've done and what I've been and an addict is certainly not one of them."

"So it was a willing choice to OD then was it?"

"Yeah, it was," stated Kerrigan simply. "You don't understand Jim. Every stim I took I took willingly. It wasn't because I was forced to. It wasn't even because I wanted to. I...I thought I had to."

She took a moment, her lip quivering. Always aware that what she was saying would probably make little sense to a drunken man.

"I'm not strong Jim. I'm not strong enough to go out without being saved. I'm not strong enough to take control of my own life. The stims...I thought they were helping me. Everything was spiralling out of control. You saw how the reconnaissance mission went. I nearly got killed several times on a god damned recon mission. I thought they were helping me regain control. But they were just another shackle from free will. I was no more in control while on the stims as I was within the zerg. Well I know better now. There's no such thing as control. The little we govern ourselves with is limited at best. There are forces here that are moving things in motion, invisible catalysts that spark chains of events wide spanning throughout the sector. The control we have over ourselves is incomplete. And I'll be damned if I ever sacrifice the little control I have, to anyone. I won't lose control...not again."

Raynor blinked. Kerrigan slumped. "Does this make any sense to you?"

Slowly he walked beside her, placing a warm hand on her cold shoulder. The perspiration and remaining droplets of water slid down her skin washing away grime and dirt much like the zerg had been swept away by the very same power. Her head was lowered as the last drops of water fell from her fiery head and the crimson shone bright to Raynor's hazed eyes. They were silent once more. Raynor felt as if his drunken stupor was lifting. His stomach felt calmer and his eyes, glassed and unfocused, now carried a determination of leaders.

"The poison, it showed me things," he finally spoke. "Things I'd buried with time. Time and alcohol."

"What things did you see?" asked Sarah.

"A memory," he replied simply.

"Remember what I did after the Guild Wars?" he asked her, quietly. "I settled down – this was after me and Tychus had split. I was lucky enough to be with an amazing woman. Lidya was the sort of person that you instinctively knew there was no one else like her in the universe. She was kind and determined, sympathetic and strong. And she was my wife. It was my paradise. I settled in as the marshal and woke up everyday grateful and eager. And then she became pregnant."

"I remember you telling me about that," whispered Sarah. "I'm sorry about what happened."

Raynor curled his hands into tight fists. "Well then that makes one of us."

OOO

"No," whispered the Hierarch. After several moments, he repeated his answer with a roar. "I will not stand for this. Do you hear me? I shall not!"

"The choice does not rest with you, young Artanis," spoke the council. "It is time you remember that. And while your appointment was a necessary action, don't dare to forget the oaths you took, the foundations upon which we were made and the reason for all the blood that has been lost. You are a Protoss, young Artanis. And I stress _a_ Protoss. You are one of many. Khas united us so to ensure strength through unity! How may you in good conscience defy the will of the people. Will you go against all the Protoss stand for?"

"Then perhaps Khas was mistaken!" growled the Hierarch.

His words echoed in the empty hall. An eerily silence crept back.

"You contributions to the Protoss are grand and we know as much," snarled the council. "But let another stray thought of blasphemous dissonance from your mind and _we_ will not stand for it. We will not tolerate this again."

"Tell me again how is it that the Civil council is composed entirely of former Conclave Judicators?" challenged Artanis angrily.

The council took time before speaking once more.

"This conversation is tripe and without end or meaning. Hierarch Artanis, we are here to deliver to you an ultimatum. Here in Antioch following the rise and fall of 3 suns, due to slaughter and the vindictive transgression against the Khala, the illicit and unregistered Archon Fenix _will_ be held accountable for his actions."

OOO

"What is that supposed to mean?" demanded Sarah.

"I...I didn't want a kid," mumbled Raynor, miserably. "I never did. But it – it made Lidya so happy, who was I to complain? He was born, healthy as can be. He kept me up, he took over Lidya's life...and he made me miserable."

Raynor's eyes shined with fresh moisture. "I...I think I hated him."

His hands covered his face tightly. Sarah could only imagine what he was feeling. He spoke muffled, into his palms, afraid that the slightest crack between his fingers would reveal himself and cause him to be crushed by all he had stored.

"He was – he was...he caught the attention of the Tarsonis Institute of Health and Research, little more than the public front for the Confederate Ghost Program. I fought with Lidya, but eventually handed my so-"

Raynor stopped himself.

"I handed him over," he corrected himself; a correction that did not go unnoticed. "Lidya thought it was inspiring that I had let go of the past hatred for the Confederacy but that's not the reason I let him go. I let him go because I didn't want him."

Kerrigan was afraid to speak.

"And then the shuttle crash," continued Raynor, almost inaudibly soft.

"It wasn't an accident was it?" said Kerrigan.

Raynor sighed heavily, one only to be found in a man wrought with all the worst things life had to offer. "It wasn't an accident. It was a covert Umojan mission to sabotage the Confederate Ghost Program. Even those weasels weren't slick enough to infiltrate the Ghost Academy. So they'd pick off the ghosts, potential recruits, non-essential staff, anyone who was seen leaving the premise. They didn't give a damn who they killed so long as they were doing anything to put the hurt on the Confederacy. So now you know why my mistrust for the Confederates is only second to the Umojans. Suffice to say, I found out. Don't ask me what happened to the Umojan operatives. You don't want to know."

His next words were fighting so hard to stay trapped within his soul and not be uttered to a single soul for they had the power to alienate everyone.

"Do you know what my first reaction was when I heard of the crash?" asked Raynor. "Relief."

He looked terrified as he spoke. "Who the hell reacts to his son's death with relief? Who? Lidya cried for days. Her sight was so clouded with tears that she didn't even notice that I had none. I was just...numb. Not with pain or grief, just...numb. I-I don't think I even cared."

The break down was silent, anti-climactic but the most heart wrenching scene Sarah had ever witnessed. Raynor kept his face in his hands, his long brown hair covering his eyes like a curtain and his palms muffling the sounds of agony he was voicing.

"I was so cold to think that we could resume our lives after John was buried," said Raynor shakily. "But Lidya...she couldn't move on. The grief killed her. And I grieved for her. But the reason for her death...well it alienated me even more to my son...my boy. I ended up hating him, her, myself..."

"So you drunk," concluded Kerrigan.

"Not enough to kill, but enough to haze out the memory. The Magistrate had to fight tooth and nail to keep me as Marshall. Even he knew I was in a downward spiral. Guess it took an impending alien destruction force to snap me out of it. But it never went away. I accepted waking up with a hangover every morning and emptying my stomach. It was better than seeing him. I've seen my men horrified and scared. They were traumatized by the fact that they lost someone. How many can say that they're traumatized by the fact that they weren't traumatized by losing someone?"

"You're not scared of his death," concluded Kerrigan, suddenly. "You're scared of yourself."

"I'm sober enough to recognize tripe when I see it," grunted Raynor dryly.

"Doesn't make it any less true," she countered. "You grieve more for your lack of grieving than you do for the death of your son. But grieving is grieving. How can you say that you didn't care about him? Look at you. His death defined you, Jim. Can you really believe he meant nothing to you after everything that's happened – for better or for worse?"

Kerrigan grabbed his arm, forcing it away from his face so she could peer into all that he was hiding. "People don't change that much for people they hate. You loved your son. You loved him even if you didn't know it."

"How are you so sure of that," he asked bitterly.

"You hunted down and killed his murderers. You carried the guilt of how you acted over him for nearly 10 years. You became an alcoholic and chose a self-destructive lifestyle so you'd be spared the torment only someone so close could inflict. And your grief was so great even the most powerful psychic couldn't discern it. It's time to face the truth, Jim. And the truth is, you cared for your son. And right now, you're crying for your son."

The man wept. The woman watched sadly as all that the years of alcohol had buried, had been unwound in a single conversation. Tears poured as if they were the cleansed solution of all his poison. They sat there beside each other, silently comforting without uttering a word. None were needed. There were no windows. Their sense of time had been jumbled. If it wasn't they'd realise they'd been silent and together for little over a day. Sleep came. They both fell into the slumber of their minds. There were no smiles on their faces. But there were no frowns. Raynor would not see his deceased child tonight. And Kerrigan would not see the empty pond.

The loud door opened with a heavy groan. The sound awoke both inmates. They groggily stood up, neither deciding to make a mad dash for the exit. Matt Horner stood on the opposite side of the door. He was tired, probably hadn't slept in days and he looked more nervous now than ever.

"I hope you got your problems sorted out," he said, "because we need you now."

"What's going on," demanded Raynor, rubbing his irritated eyes.

"Fenix is going to be executed."

* * *

**Author's Note: After a long time, here's the update. It's been half done for about two weeks now. I simply had no idea how to write the Raynor Kerrigan bit. So if it was a little weak, sorry. This should be the last untimely break. As I've been writing the events on Aiur all these ideas have been floating around in my head. Suffice to say, I'm excited to start writing them down. Seeing as how redundant it may seem, I will only ask you readers to please review. I'm going to start updating more so advice would be much appreciated.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: I was wondering why I wasn't getting any reviews. Then I realized that the chapter I had posted was not appearing on the website. Oh well, maybe I'm having some recall issues, but nevertheless, sorry for the delay. Here's the next chapter

* * *

**

"Any word from the other systems?" asked Horner.

"Nothing," grunted General Warfield. "Not sure if I should be happy or anxious. None of the systems have reported sightings of the Hybrid. But I know Mengsk. Something is going down."

"Well we can't let more attacks go unanswered," sighed Matthew Horner. "We both know how ruthless Mengsk is. We need to prepare for the worst. That means compiling a list of possible targets."

"There's only one place that we can really put the hurt on the Dominion," spoke Warfield.

"I know," responded the young commander. "But going there is suicide. Its reputation is well deserved. I can't believe we even made it out of there alive the first time. I took a round to the leg and a lot of people I knew ended up dead. We might not be able to risk it again."

"Trust me, I know all about the Dominion military structure and hierarchy. As far as strike targets go, they don't get better than this."

"Or as dangerous," remarked Matt, dryly.

OOO

The golden headpiece suddenly felt heavy against the head of the Hierarch. Better days had it uplifting his soul, reminding him of his duty. And now, it pressed against his elongated head like the sins of an entire race. He protected these cowards and they revealed their faces only to subsequently pierce his flesh with a cold blade of psionic power. He felt alone, terribly alone. This feeling of isolation made his skin cold and his body restless. He sought out the Khala, finding a lack in all the qualities he desired from the Protoss. Compassion, strength integrity...all of these were void, replaced with the scheming malice of those whose actions Artanis bitterly cursed and cursed still. Urun was dead. Selendis had been stripped of her rank and been kept within holding after voicing vicious contempt at the Civil Council. Mohandar had disappeared as the Dark Templar tended to. No doubt he was even at this moment convening with the elders of Shakuras questioning if their decision to harbour the Aiur-born was a wise one. All the chauvinism and prejudice of the Judicators and the Conclave seemed no less prevalent than when they still existed. How had their poison tainted the Protoss so far to remain illicitly present even now?

From his position at the Khas Tower, he caught glimpse of the magnitudes of Protoss converging upon the Nexus Maximal – the last remaining Nexus temple from the Aeon of Strife. This is where the Protoss would execute the very hero who allowed them to walk freely to the site of his future death. They moved harmoniously, synced and uniformed. The sun shone. It shone brightly, almost harshly. Its rays, heated with both the core of their sun and the wanton greed of the Council, crashed into buildings of golden attire, who's material relayed this harsh light to others and then to others. It spread, bathing Antioch in a light so great that it was somehow less than so. Like a toxin seeping through open wounds, the light, unwelcomed and gratuitously fierce shot around the spires of Antioch, finally grazing the face of the leader, who shielded his eyes from its unceremonious blaze.

He knew his body was receiving nutrients from the generous rays of light but he felt awkward, strange and unnerved. Was this what they had been fighting for? The sun was far from what they remembered. All its glory had been so intensified as to border the realm of incredulity. It had been so long since the sun of Aiur had shone upon its sons. It was...Artanis did not know what it was. Perhaps it was because he had stayed so long in the dark. Could he really face the light, in its intensity? Was light itself unappealing?

No sooner was the battle won than it had been lost.

The Hierarchy was in shambles. Its leader, no more than a figure head. Its Martial Council, broken and gone. Its political schemers, well and ready to reclaim thrones of power, kept warm by those who protected them from the malice of the zerg.

Artanis tiredly set down his headpiece. It would not be long until he was no longer permitted to wear said symbol of leadership. He might as well get use to it. The Hierarch had never understood Terran war cries, why the bold humans screamed in terror and victory, in pain and joy. Now he knew. For once, Artanis wished he had such an outlet to proclaim these transgressions to the skies. He would scream all things vulgar and cruel and vile and wicked. He would shout to empty space of things he had never heard of, of words he had never heard spoken, and of hatred he had never garnered. He wished to be granted this one vice of incivility in a time where it reigned supremely, though hidden beneath layers of gold and honour.

"Artanis, what's going on?" asked a rugged voice.

The Protoss warrior turned, seeing his old terran friend, looking worse than ever, yet determined still.

"Your recovery was swift," commented the Hierarch. "Perhaps a higher power exists still."

"What are you doing?" demanded Raynor. "Fenix is about to be murdered and you're up here alone doing god knows what. Do you know what he's do-"

"I need no reminder of the services he provided nor the trials he faced," snapped Artanis, loudly. "I accompanied him on most of them myself. Your ignorance is tolerable as an outsider, but even with all your time with the Protoss, do not attempt to marginalize what I am now facing. You have no idea of the implications which this decision rides upon."

"Then explain it to me," protested Raynor. "Because I can't in good conscience see a hero murdered by the very people he was protecting."

"It is not my place," whispered Artanis. "But perhaps the situation will permit it. Very well. Have you not questioned the manner in which Fenix unceremoniously rose from the dead? Were you not curious how your our friend had done something no Protoss in history had even attempted?"

"You guys are enigmatic to the core," shrugged Raynor. "You proved to me long ago that truly understanding the Protoss would not be possible, so I stopped trying. I figured if it was important, he would have told me."

"You don't understand, Raynor. It is because of its importance that Fenix kept it from us all, save me," said Artanis frustratingly. "He...well he did die. Yet unlike all before him, Fenix resisted the pull of the Khala, remained in the ethereal world between worlds that is unknown even to us. He waited for one to cross his path and then..."

Raynor waited for an answer.

"He melded with it, banking on the minimal chance that such a melding into Archon eminence would allow him re-entry into this world. It did, but at a grand cost. Melding without a body anchor caused unforeseen complications. Instead of harmonious existence, the two minds within a single body fought and eventually one destroyed the other. Effectively, Fenix...killed a very high ranked warrior – one who was not only a great warrior in his own right, but one who had earned the Civil Council's favour. This is sacrilege and heresy to the highest degree! It is one thing to kill another Protoss, but to destroy his spirit and deny him the right to the Khala? That is seen as a sin so great that laws have never been written to deal with such an atrocity."

"But look at all he's done!" exclaimed Raynor. "None of this would be possible if it wasn't for the help of Fenix. And doesn't he outrank almost everyone anyway? He's a Praetor ain't he?"

"There is no proverbial worth to be placed on one soul and not the other!" said Artanis incredulously. "In the eyes of the Protoss we are all equal, perhaps not in military worth but no position offers a position of elitism. This is the most important aspect of the Protoss, Raynor."

"That can't be it," said Raynor. "The Protoss wouldn't convict one of their best."

"Unless some stood to gain," finished Artanis. "The Civil Council has made its power grab. I should have pieced it together sooner. Curse my blindness for not seeing it. Every member of the Civil Council was a former Judicator of the Conclave. Effectively, they were the remnants of the corrupt and destroyed government of our past. In fact, it mirrors the situation of the Terrans quite well."

"Thanks for reminding me," mumbled Raynor. "It's better off not waking up every day knowing we traded one dictatorship for the next."

"Mohandar has disappeared. Urun is dead. Selendis has stripped of her rank – her status as a female had always made her a ripe target. And Fenix...well you know all there is to know about him. The Civil Council is effectively dismantling the only other party that kept it in check. They will come for me and my rank soon, I know it."

"Then stop this!"

"I can't!" roared Artanis in pure frustration. "It is the will of the people, not just the Council. My people are tired of war, Raynor. They are spent with the blood of our soldiers and the sacrifices of our race. The battle urge has long since been spent and we rest as a broken race who's last remnants of culture must be regained lest we sink into oblivion. As far as my people are concerned, we have won. The battle is over. Rarely anyone supports the war effort, my dear friend. How can I oppose my people?"

"Because you're the leader!" cried Jim. "You were appointed to make choices that others couldn't!"

"No!" repeated Artanis, now more stricken with guilt. "The Protoss are nothing if not communal. Our entire culture is based upon an unshaken belief in the collective. I can't defy this. Not ever. To oppose the execution is to oppose everything my race stands for. And I cannot do this."

"We don't live in a world where we have the luxury of following every rule," growled Raynor. "No rule ever goes unbroken. Some are for unjust causes. Others are for survival. Are you telling me that you'd rather keep tradition than keep alive?"

"Imagine the one thing that defines your race," spoke Artanis ghostly soft. "Visualize the one single thing that makes you human. And you tell me what it would be like to lose it."

Artanis looked back at the window. Light was still blindingly bright. Raynor was taken aback. He couldn't answer the question though he knew one who could.

"If you don't maintain your military presence, we don't have a chance in hell in stopping that whatever this prophecy is foretelling. And same goes for Fenix. You saw his kill counter. He killed more zerg in one day than most people do in 3 lifetimes. You know how much we need the army and how much we need a strong warrior."

Artanis didn't answer. Raynor stood up immediately and made for the door, his balance loyally returning to him with as much grace as could be provided. He raised his radio.

"Nova, get into position."

"What are you doing?" demanded Artanis.

"I'm not going to let Fenix die," said Raynor determinedly. "I have an agent ready to step in if it goes that far."

"Cease this at once!" bellowed Artanis, standing at full strength. "You have no right! Your meddling will only worsen things. This is an issue of the Protoss and the Protoss alone! An outside intervention could spark an internal conflict!"

"Damn it, Artanis," sighed Raynor. "We're already in an internal conflict. And you can be the one tied down by outdated traditions in a time of prosperity, refusing to alter your beliefs in a time of war. But I know that my friend is going to die unless I do something. And if that's against any tradition I hold true, then I gladly forsake it."

Artanis furiously launched a force of psionic inertia at the nearest wall as Raynor left. It left a significant crater in Raynor's wake. The Hierarch paced around furiously. In his rage, he destroyed the staunching glass from the light. It made him feel no better. Traditional Protoss chants were being heard from the Nexus Maximal. The execution was about to begin. Artanis bent down, feeling the sharp glass against his skin, almost wanting and needing the pain to reaffirm himself. The breeze felt delicate and reprieved Artanis from the light.

"Zeratul," called Artanis.

From behind him, the old Dark Templar appeared. He stood next to the Hierarch.

"You must choose, Artanis," spoke Zeratul. "To condemn him is to be cruelty. To free him is to be felonious. But to do nothing is to be cowardice. You are not a coward Artanis. Do not act as such."

The chanting was incessant. The heat and brightness of the light made Artanis light headed. He looked down, appearing to have slight vertigo. The sound of Zeratul's rags flapping about the free wind mesmerised the young leader. His heavy headpiece glimmered like a diamond. The Khaydarin Jewel resting on it, flashed, beating like a lively heart. And all was right and all was wrong.

"Halt the execution," he spoke finally, almost silent enough to be stolen by the wind. "Halt the execution. Executor Selendis is to be released and reinstated. All offences against Fenix are to be dropped immediately. The Civil Council is to be disbanded."

"So you choose to defy the Council, to defy tradition and to defy the Protoss," stated Zeratul, ever evenly, never to reveal a bias. "You're promoting yourself to high power."

"I spoke to Fenix when I engaged in combat with the Leviathan creature. I told him what I did, only because I believed I was to die, not because I believed the thoughts I relayed to him. But now...now I truly, truly understand Fenix. It is not enough to respect tradition. That won't help when we're dead."

"They'll hate you for it," warned Zeratul softly. "And not just the council members. The people, you're people. Not a day will go by where your name is not cursed as the wretched dictator who chose to forsake commune. You're name will be struck from every record. Your actions will be cursed and despised. And your legacy, should you choose that path, will be forever tainted. You will be excommunicated from the Khala, whatever your future deeds, they will not be great enough to overcome this cultural usurpation."

"Undoubtedly they will hate me," spoke Artanis, turning away from the harsh rays light. "All the doings I have accomplished and all those I will, will not save me from disgrace. But...I cannot Zeratul. I cannot! I cannot see my people destroyed while I stay chained in the past of traditions. I must leash my pride lest it become the bane of my kind. Yes, I will be hated, perhaps more than any Protoss before me. But like Tassadar and Fenix before me, I will endure – not for myself but for the Protoss."

Overwhelming sadness struck Artanis' visage, one so intricate and complex only another Protoss could comprehend it.

"The Protoss will hate me," whispered Artanis. "Of that I'm sure. But at least there will be Protoss left to hate."

OOO

"Are you sure of this?"

"Inescapably."

"You realize the gravity of this situation?"

"I do."

"Your claims are very serious."

"Sir I did not get this far by lying and deceiving, especially on this scale of things."

There was silence. The man contemplated hard.

"Very well. Get me the Admiralty."

OOO

She had free time. At least that's what she was telling herself. The hard clacking of her heels against the stone pavement only brought her back to reality and made her realize how ludicrous she was acting. The guards were surprised to see her a second time. Why was there so much security here anyway? It was a Mental Health Center not a high security penitentiary. The guard opened the heavy door. Its hinges cringed horribly and Lockwell marched past him into the plain room. Her old boss was waiting.

His face lit up like no other time she had ever seen him. He appeared to be counting on his fingers. Perhaps this facility had degraded his higher function arithmetic skills. Or maybe he was just a crazy nut after all. Either way, Lockwell still didn't know why she had returned, and on a major deadline no less.

"Oh you came back!" exclaimed Donny with renewed vigour. "I knew you'd come! You're a good journalist!"

"Donny, rehashing old stories is a job for an archivist. Journalists handle new stories remember?"

"Yes, yes of course," he mumbled with barely contained happiness. His counting had been disrupted which he appeared to be dismayed at, for at least a couple seconds. Then he snapped back to his entirely idiosyncratic ways. "Guess this place has been stifling my grip on reality! Ha! So anyways, you found the story, right? I mean why else would you be back, you know? Unless you meant to pay your old dear boss another visit out of respect. See, thing is, I don't really command that much respect around here like I did out there, you see. It's like I'm an convict or something, you know what I mean?"

"What? No," replied the confused reporter. "Anyway Donny, I got your stupid story. It was the one with the Umoj-"

"I got it!" he said loudly.

"What? I haven't even told you it yet!" she fumed frustratingly.

"I got it. You can trust me," he said in a demeanour strangely serious.

"Why would you get me to find you a story and waste my time if you already knew what the story was? You may have the luxury of time Donny, but I don't anymore," Kate was getting madder.

"Come on Kate, I got it!" he said once more.

"You got it?" repeated Lockwell dumbly. She kicked herself for wasting even more time with Donny. Clearly she had once again done something for another unexplainable reason. Well at least she could make him pay.

"Oh you got it!" squealed Lockwell with reckless abandon to how apparent her sarcasm would be. "I knew you would, Donny boy. You're just the best! You got it? You got it? Well I'll say, you must just be the sharpest knife in the drawer now aren't you?"

Donny's face went from elated to fallen, almost even disappointed.

"Oh no, what's wrong Donny? I thought you got it right? You got a hint of the crazies? You got an insane delusional complex? You got those Umojans? That thief? The manife-"

"I got it!" repeated Donny, this time louder than ever. "I'm telling you, I got it."

"Got what?" demanded Lockwell heatedly.

"I got it," he said simply.

It finally dawned on her. She was stunned and speechless. Her jaw failed to function. Was this all real? Or was she seeing what she wanted to see? Was it just her journalistic training kicking in and trying to create a story out of nothing or fabricate links where there were none? No, this couldn't be real. He couldn't have.

"Donny, are you telling me you have the-"

"I got it," he said, almost angry. "I got it, you see. I got it in here," he pointed to his head. "And elsewhere."

Lockwell gave him a questioning look. He returned a hard stare, one which only wavered once. That waver was when his eyes darted to his side. Lockwell slowly followed his gaze and in the corner of her eye, she saw a guard watching them. She froze with fear. Could this all be true?

"You got it," she said softly.

"I got it," he reaffirmed. "I got it."

His eyes told Lockwell that they both knew what was going on.

"Whatever Donny," Lockwell stated; turning abruptly, ready to leave.

"Oh and by the way!" called Donny. "Did you like the peanut butter?"

Lockwell paused. "Yeah, I um had some last night."

"Oh well good," he said cheerfully. "Don't wait too long. It might get stale and rotten."

OOO

Fenix from within his Immortal body, rested in a room bathed in light. Its heat emanated at uncomfortable levels, even felt within his thick armour. The chants were even more heated, melting his brain into non-functional goo, primordial muck that if left uncorrected, would erase thousands of years of evolution. These chants were sung at only a specific occasion: executions. Where was Artanis? Would he not vouch for him? Fenix felt unnerved, severely so. From within, he readied his weapons and strengthened his hardened shields. He did not come back only to be ceremoniously returned. If worse came to worse, Fenix was prepared to do what was necessary. The accelerating beats of the chant pumped through the room. Almost all the onlookers were chanting. Some did so out of conformity. Others out of fear. And some only half-heartedly, much to the immortal's approval. It pounded the air like the beat of a human heart. And it accelerated faster and faster. Soon, Fenix would meet his own kind of cardiac arrest. One which had similar results. The chants died down. The onlookers looked nowhere but at Fenix, Praetor, Immortal and Archon.

"Fenix of the Templar Caste!" called a voice loud and unmistakably that of the Civil Council.

"That name has no bearing here," replied the accused icily. "The Conclave is finished along with its deplorable designations."

"It's meaning rings true nonetheless," replied the Council. "Are you not Fenix? Are you not the famous warrior who served in the zealous infantry or the Dragoon division or even now the Immortal Ranks? Are you not the Praetor of legend, defender of both Antioch and Aiur itself? Are you not the warrior who stood against the wretched Queen of Blades?"

"Yes I am," said Fenix, fiercely.

"Then the title stands," was the simple reply.

"Praetor Fenix you are an unregistered Archon. From a consensus gathered through the Khala, your actions both heretic and murderous in nature have elicited harsh punishment. You have defied the inviolability of the Khala. You murdered one of our esteemed High Templars. You curse our forefathers by denying yourself to them and not only that, but you sought to bring about another's denial to the Khala. Karass was a noble warrior deserving all that awaited him beyond. And in your senseless warmongering, you robbed him of that ultimate reward, not only violating the sanctity of our Khala, but breaking religions doctrine and committing murder of the spirit. We are ashamed of you."

The silence was allowed entrance. Were Fenix in his original body, he would now be shaking with anger. These fools knew nothing of the sacrifices he had made. And now they claimed them to be of selfish purposes. Only through years of training of a patient mind, did Fenix stay still, not giving in to the rage which the Council sought to fuel. They would not easily instigate Fenix' anger. He attempted to block out their goading.

"This crime both villainous and blasphemous can be met with nothing short than a punishment as extreme as the deed. Praetor Fenix, the Protoss have condemned you to death and eternal imprisonment of the spirit to be guarded over by Preserver here at Nexus Maximal. It was your wish to never taste the Khala. We will see to it that your wish be granted. "

"Seize the Archon," ordered the Council.

Fenix made to move but his path was blocked. Half a dozen Force Fields had erected themselves, leaving Fenix trapped. He was hit with something. he didn't know exactly what it was. He felt his hardened shields diminish and his phase disruptors were no longer functioning. He saw a glimmer which resembled that of those who operated under invisibility. A lone zealot ignited his psionic blade, inches from Fenix. He threw his arm forward at the immobilized Immortal.

It was stopped midair by an undetectable force. The zealot was subsequently thrown back. The cloak fell, revealing the mighty Zeratul standing between the Council and Fenix.

"What is this treachery?" hissed the Civil Council.

"Hierarch Artanis has ordered the execution be stopped," responded the Dark Templar. "Also, the release and reinstatement of Executor Selendis is to be underway immediately."

"He has no authority," fumed the Council. "The fate of the Protoss rests in the hands of the Protoss, not a young reckless warrior whose ties of friendship clearly cloud his better judgement!"

"This execution, if it ever was one, is over," growled Zeratul, menacingly.

"Well, it seems you _are_ quite the Immortal," remarked the Civil Council. "But make no mistake, Archon, this is merely a setback. The Hierarch cannot protect you. We will see to it that you get what is deserved and that this intrusion does not go unpunished."

Zeratul ushered Fenix out. The Nexus Maximal Guard didn't dare to stop both the great Praetor and the Dark Templar of legend.

"What has happened?" asked Fenix, immediately.

"Artanis saved you," spoke Zeratul.

"He's disobeying the commune?" Fenix asked incredulously. "Does he understand the implications?"

"Yes," said the Dark Templar. "He knows the gravity of what he has done. He knows its consequences."

"Then I pray for him."

"Dear Hierarch!" proclaimed Selendis, bowing low. "You sprung me from the unjust confines imposed by the Civil Council. May only glory fall upon you. How will the Council take this?"

"They won't," replied the Hierarch, his headpiece now rested firmly on his head. "I ordered their abolition several minutes ago. Fenix was also saved from execution."

"Your dismay suggests that something ill befell you," commented Selendis.

"I disobeyed commune. You understand what that entails," sighed Artanis. "The supreme unspoken law that governed our people is one that I broke. I will be seen as the enemy."

"Do not let the words of the Council taint your fair judgement, my Hierarch. Their talks of peace were misplaced. Were we Protoss not to adapt, we would be destroyed. Your obedience to the traditions of old would have brought about our end. Do not worry, my Hierarch but rejoice. You have given us a fighting chance."

"Your words are kind, Selendis," hummed Artanis, uncharacteristically. "But they are false and ridden with lies. The Protoss will realize my power-hungry desires and will overthrow me. Were you not blinded my female prerogative, you would be aware of this. I am not a leader. I am a selfish coward unfit to wear the name of Hierarch or even that of the Protoss. I would do best to step down now and proceed to exile."

"Hierarch!" exclaimed Selendis, taken aback. "You cannot possibly mean what you speak."

"What?" asked Artanis, dazed. "No...no I do not mean it. I-I don't know what just happened. Those words were not my own Selendis, I trust that you will believe me. What just happened is unknown to me...what did I speak of?"

"You spoke of your own demise and my inaptitude stemming from my gender," said Selendis, still loyal.

The true malevolence of the Civil Council finally dawned upon Artanis. It sickened him. But there was no denying it now.

"It is the Civil Council's doing," whispered Artanis, mad with confusion. "They planted those words in my mind. It's the Khala! They are channelling thoughts so concentrated that they are affecting me."

"Do you speak of Mind Control?" asked Selendis warily. "Only the most skilled Dark Archons possessed such a skill and even their abilities are far from our own. How can former Judicators know of this technique? The only record of this stemmed back to the days of Khas and the birth of the Khala itself."

"They have acquired the knowledge somehow," said Artanis shakily. "They are trying to control me."

There was no end to the torture, no end to the sickening isolation that would push Artanis further and further down this irreparable path. And now there existed yet another to force him along this dark path he had chosen. The pain would not end here. There was more to come and Artanis realized the only solution. His body trembled both out of anger and fear.

"Bring them before me," he whispered.

"But perhaps we should-"

"Bring them before me," he repeated more coldly.

Selendis left the room, leaving Artanis to his thoughts. The Hierarch, who had abandoned the most important rule of his people, reached down, grabbing a gold piece from the ground amidst the broken glass. It had been nearly a century since he had used a psionic blade. In the next few minutes, it would taste blood once more.


	28. Chapter 28

A flurry of gunfire echoed loudly. The make-shift shooting range, now made up of hung zerg corpses, was empty save for one particular shooter. Nova cursed, seeing her horrid aim. She shot not in accuracy but rage. She couldn't have cared less. She wanted to waste some lead and feel the brute recoil of the rifle against her shoulder as she squeezed a trigger – unleashing bullets to whatever was in its way.

"Losing your touch Nova?" asked a voice behind her.

Her commander in chief, as it were, came beside her, staring at the spent bullet casings and then at the target who's wounds did not equate with the shells.

"Nothing to worry about," replied Nova, shouldering her rifle again, preparing to fire. "I just saw my large scale combat theatre."

"I called for you, you know," said Raynor, offhandedly. "An hour ago. You were supposed to be at the Nexus Maximal making sure Fenix was kept safe. You never showed up."

"Is he dead?" asked Nova. Raynor shook his head. "Then there's nothing to worry about," she concluded, flicking off her safety.

Raynor grabbed the shaft of her rifle and forced it down. "There is something to worry about. It's you."

Nova stayed silent.

"What is going on?" he asked exasperatingly. "We could have lost Fenix today because of you. And now I find you shooting up dead zerg carcasses which are completely against regulation. You know Matt ordered to burn the corpses on the spot."

"Let me ask you a question," Nova said suddenly. "I want you to answer it directly with no bullshit."

Raynor nodded.

"Are we going after Mengsk?" she demanded with clear emphasis on every word. "That's why I joined this little charade of yours. Saving the Protoss is all well and good, but I didn't sign up to fight aliens. I stayed to fight the Dominion, to fight that son of a bitch."

"We're still fighting the Dominion," insisted Raynor. "But if we abandoned our friends we're just as bad. I ain't gonna become Mengsk just to defeat him."

"You're right," stated Nova, fresh with sarcasm. "You're not a ruthless dictator at all. You're just a drunk commander who's lost sight of his true goal."

Raynor raised an eyebrow at the comment. Nova took a moment to recollect on what she had just said.

"Sorry," she added. "I didn't mean to say that. It's just that...we got to get him. We have to get Mengsk. I don't care how, I don't care why, but we have to get him and soon."

"He doesn't deserve to live," she whispered to herself.

"We will get him, that's certain," assured Raynor. "But why Nova? Why are you so suddenly desperate to make Mengsk pay? You're alarming me, Nova. The only people who I've known to do whatever necessary have been...well...Mengsks."

"Well here's one in the flesh," snarled Nova. "Listen, don't worry about me. My motivations shouldn't matter to you. My actions should. And when we get back on track soon, you'll find I'm more than good enough to hit a target between the eyes at 100 yards. Let's just get to Mengsk. There's nothing to worry about Jimmy."

Raynor sighed and turned. "Even you don't believe that, Nova," he stated, walking away.

Nova paused for a second before raising her rifle once more and firing again on the bullet ridden corpse.

Raynor walked about down the streets of Antioch, its citizens admiring their reclaimed city. Many greeted Raynor with genuine enthusiasm as they made their way by. Raynor noticed that Artanis would receive a very different greeting when word got out of his actions. The Commander made his way into the command center. He passed by a small monitor, which flickered with light and disturbing paroles caught Raynor's attention.

_"The devastating reports of the vicious Hybrid attacks unleashed by notorious criminal and terrorist James Raynor have dwindled. Many military analysts allocate this brief peace as the product of General Winston Duke's efforts to quell the threat with the full might of the Dominion Armada, promoting safety and security to the Dominion. The Hybrid has previously attacked Tyrador IX, Tyrador II and Brontes I. The closest systems in the area are the Nephor and Torus systems. In other news, efforts to rebuild the Tyrrador III University have begun with-"_

"What in the hell?" mumbled Raynor, incredulously.

He took off at a blinding pace, bursting into the room with General Warfield and Matt Horner. They were both mildly surprised but Warfield had a proud smirk on his face.

"Knew you'd recover," grunted the seasoned veteran. "That's what you call determination."

"What is this smear campaign? They have video evidence of me releasing the Hybrid and now it's been attacking colonies and innocent people!"

"Don't know if you noticed, but we were a little busy fighting a war," miffed the General.

"You know Mengsk, sir," said Horner quietly. "There's no way the Hybrid got out of the Castanar facility on its own. It was brought or...unleashed. Do you think it's a coincidence that your popularity has fallen and Mengsk's has soared because of this?"

"He's using it. He must be," determined Raynor. "Jesus, killing your own people? We can't afford to wait anymore. We have to end this now before they strike again. Adjutant! Bring up the Dominion systems!"

"Well I'd never thought I'd see the day where the Emperor started killing his own people and using my troops to do it!" fumed General Warfield. "Luckily for you, I already compiled a list of targets."

The adjutant lit up. It spoke:

_Dylar System – Military Capital. Loyal to the Dominion_

_Korhal System – Political Capital. Loyal to the Dominion_

_Tyrrador System – Intellectual Capital. Revolutionary Potential_

"Not after that attack," said Matt dryly.

_Brontes System – Loyal to the Dominion_

_Nephor System – Revolutionary potential_

_Torus System – Loyal to the Dominion_

_Castanar System – Loyal to the Dominion_

_Mackan System – no active government_

_Prime System – no active government_

_Sara System – Revolutionary potential_

_Tarsonis System – no active government_

_Jaandara System – Revolutionary potential_

_Turaxis System – Loyal to the Dominion_

_Thalon System – Loyal to the Dominion_

_Maltair System – Loyal to the Dominion_

"The list ain't all right," said Warfield. "Torus ain't loyal to the Dominion, their loyal to me. They'll join our cause if it's the Hero of Torus who's asking. Like Horner said, the attack on the Tyrador planets is gonna be shaking up their loyalty a whole bunch."

"Then we got Nephor," pushed Matt, excitedly. "The Umojans claimed that rogue elements of the Ghost Program – specifically the one Tosh was a part of – was behind the explosion on Nephor II. The Nephor System's loyalty to the Dominion is strained. While their burying their thousands dead, the Dominion isn't lifting a finger to investigate. Mackan is pretty much deserted now, not much left of that system. And the Prime system, well, you'd be hard pressed to find anything human left there. But we got Sara support easily. You're their champion. Turaxis is largely militaristic and patriotic – we'd best forget about that system. And the Tarsonis system isn't in any shape to be doing much of anything. But we do stand a good chance at rallying support from the Jaandara system. Their economy is hurting really bad. The Depression there is out of control. They've already defied the Dominion by trading with the Kel-Morians. Getting them to join our cause isn't too farfetched."

"But Raynor," cautioned Warfield. "There's a reason Dylar is at the top of that list."

"The Shipyards," sighed Raynor. "I know what you're thinking, but we got out from luck last time. The Dylarian Shipyards is the heart of the Dominion military. It's the bastion of their strength. Deploying there means a lot of dead men, and destroyed ships over Dylar IV. We'll be encountering the might of the entire fleet! Not to mention planetary defences. If we commit to an attack there, there will be substantial losses."

"Dylar is one of the only major systems left in the Sector," argued Matt. "We won't be able to even come close to the Korhal system, not after the Odin incident. They'd send the whole armada our way if we even pointed our ships in that direction. The Castanar system would be of little worth to us. The Brontes system has too many planets for us to be able to secure the system from the Dominion without quick counterattack. Even Braxis! We can't even take that small system. It's been built to survive siege for over a year with effective trade routes between the core world and Braxis Alpha. After the Dominion has pumping money into its defences, we won't even be able to land there in one piece.

"We have to hit Dylar and we have to hit it hard," concluded Warfield firmly. "If we can take down Dylar we'll have crippled Dominion military might. It might make Korhal easier to target."

"That still doesn't explain how we can engage over half of the Dominion Armada!" exclaimed Raynor. "The Dylarian Shipyards houses a surplus of half the Dominion ships at any given time. Even with our forces bolstered, we'd be fools to engage them. The numbers game isn't on our sides."

"It can't hurt to at least get into a better position to act," replied Matt.

"Alright," sighed Raynor, not seeing an alternative. "Plot a route. We have a chance at cutting in between Brontes and Tarsonis systems."

"That's not going to work," interrupted the General. "We'd be crossing straight through the Braxis DMZ. We'd be shot out of the sky if the Braxans detected us crossing their border. We'll have to go around through the Prime system."

There was a long pause. Raynor and Matt exchanged worried looks. Antiga Prime hadn't been in the best of shape last time they were there. They were sure the rest of the system couldn't have been much better. Contact had been lost with its sister planet Almera Prime a long time ago and no one had bothered to re-establish it. Artesia Prime suffered the same fate. And judging by their last venture to the Prime system, Sigma Prime was completely deserted. Going back there was rehashing old memories that longed to be forgotten. But it was an alternative to a painful fiery death at the hands of the Dominion Braxans.

Before Raynor could decide, Rory Swann marched into the room, both desperate and confused.

"Is there no such thing as a private conversation?" demanded Warfield angrily.

"Can it!" gasped Swann. "Cowboy, you gotta see this. Their leaving! All of them, those damn betraying backstabbers!"

"Wait who is leaving?" asked Raynor.

"It's the Kel-Morians!" exclaimed Swann. "The Kel-Morians are going to war."

OOO

"What is this Artanis?" hissed the council, bathed in light while the Hierarch stood just out of sight. "You insult us by undermining our authority. You may have still the decency to speak when spoken to!"

"You hypocrites," spat Artanis. "You preach of the sanctity of the Khala and yet I know what you have done. Oh yes. You attempted to supplant me, and almost succeeded. But know this, fellow fiends and bigots, I will not succumb to the treachery of a band of miscreant dissenters. You plague my mind with lies and falsities, the likes of which I have never thought and thanks to you, will never forget."

"You're lying," stated the council.

Artanis seethed with fury. The sincerity was lacking and both parties knew it.

"I did not summon you to present you a moral speech," said Artanis. "It is much too late for that."

"You go too far young Artanis," roared the council, outraged. "You are in no position to dictate terms of superiority and ethics to us, the Civil Council. Know your place! We will not bow to the passive aggressiveness of a young foolish dictator!"

Artanis ignited his psionic blade. The blue hue lit his face and showed the council how far he was willing to go. He took steps towards them.

"If my own thoughts cannot be assured, neither can the fate of the Protoss," stated Artanis, more to himself. "The mind is sacred. Is that not what you preached?"

He stepped towards them again, raising the psionic blade to his chest.

"You dare threaten us? You dare threaten the Council? You dare threaten the Protoss?" cried the council, in rage and fear.

"No it was you who threatened the Protoss," growled Artanis. "In your power hungry pursuit you would have stripped me of my mind and throw the Protoss into disarray. I cannot allow that to happen."

He was within striking distance.

"Don't do something you will eternally regret," warned the council, all members quivering in fear. "Are you listening Hierarch? This is a mistake."

He raised the blade over his head.

"Damn you for what I must do."

The blade fell.

OOO

"Well I'll be damned," muttered a low soothing voice. "It appears that the infamous Jim Raynor has appeared before me. I would extend greetings to you but I hardly think hacking into my communications network is a proper way to elicit politeness."

"You're not General Mah Sakai, leader of the Kel-Morian Combine," said Raynor taken aback.

"No I am not," replied the man. "My predecessor was not up the task. We Kel-Morians are the embodiment of strength. But that alone will not secure our place in the sector."

"Yet somehow the Kel-Morians lost the Guild Wars and is subservient to the Dominion," remarked Matt Horner.

The man made a snicker. "So it would seem. Well, as you know, actions have been made to correct that. Anyhow, I am Rector Joseph Sieyes, leader of state for the Kel-Morian Combine and you are wasting my time."

"Rector Sieyes, you are making a mistake," pleaded Horner immediately.

"Explain exactly how that is the case," said Sieyes coldly. "The Dominion unleashed a Hybrid monster on one of our worlds. I have direct video proof and a sworn testimony from one of my soldiers who passed all psychological trauma tests to assure his sanity. I took every possible measure to secure the legitimacy of this. And now the truth comes out. This was an attack on the Kel-Morian Combine. And it will not go without retaliation. The First Response Fleet has already been deployed to Korhal space. Do not underestimate us Mr. Raynor. We have the largest fleet in the sector. And reports from the witness show that a sizeable Dominion force was present with the Hybrid, most likely to assure its cooperation. Korhal is defenceless. Its fleets are scattered around the remainders of the Kel-Morian Sigma System."

"Mengsk is ruthless!" said Raynor. "Attacking the Dominion will only assure your own destruction. There are ways to fight the Dominion but an attack on the throne world isn't it."

"So what do we do?" laughed Sieyes humourlessly. "Do we relegate ourselves to little raids on Dominion vessels? Or stealing supplies from a little train? Take a glimpse of reality, Raynor. Your revolution has done nothing! We are in the same position we were in 3 years ago. All diplomatic ties have been severed. We were at the brink of war. No longer though. Now we are in the thick of it. Mengsk wants a war, the Combine will give him one. And no bastardly ruler, no renegade commander, and no deserting General is going to convince me otherwise!"

"Can your Hubris!" scoffed Warfield. "Calculating leaders like Mengsk feast upon the impulsive natures of others. I don't know what's waiting at Korhal, but you should be damned certain that Mengsk wouldn't leave his world unprotected."

"Is that so?" spoke the Kel-Morian Rector. "Much like Mengsk wouldn't have enslaved a Hybrid to enforce loyalty through fear in his own Empire? Or use it to attack a peaceful colony? Do no waste my time general. We are but moments away now. Kel-Morian ships should be warping into Korhal space within seconds. Goodbye gentlemen."

The screen faded to black.

"Get me feed of the Kel-Morian First Response Fleet now!" barked Raynor.

Matt relayed similar orders.

"Well he's right," grunted Warfield. "Kel-Moria does have the largest fleet in the sector but it's outdated, disorganized and undisciplined. Hell, they're still using some of the old Leviathan class Battlecruisers. They wouldn't stand a chance against a Dominion Fleet."

"Is that professional pride?" asked Raynor.

"Merely an observation," he replied. "But who knows? Maybe they will actually catch a break. If the Hybrid was as monstrous as you claim it was, it will have taken a lot of manpower to control it."

"Don't count on it. Mengsk always has a plan."

"The feed is coming up now!" called Horner.

The screen flickered back to life. The following images were horrific.

Huge chunks of metal and steel floated about as all assortments of weaponry and pain were engaged. The Kel-Morian fleet had run into an entire blockade of hostile Battlecruisers. Yamato cannons were shooting Kel-Morians down faster than the captains could react. Ships collided with each other. Uncoordinated attacks by the First Response Fleet were easily outmanoeuvred by the hostile ships protecting Korhal. These ships appeared to be professionally captained. They moved in coordination almost unfound even in the Dominion. Salvos were fired, crashing into wings of old valkyrie ships, sending them spiralling out of control. The First Response Fleet was getting decimated within minutes. The large debris of former ships obstructed view and manoeuvrability. And then the platform came into view.

The platform, looking very new, had a familiar weapon housed on its surface. All watching paled when they identified it. The Ion cannon was prepping to fire. A single shot was fired. One medium sized volley of infinite carnage. It was enough to level the entire First Response Fleet. The feed cut out as the respective Battleship most likely suffered irreparable damage. The fleet's numbers dropped from nearly 50 to less than a dozen. It was a massacre. If any damage was done to the Dominion, none could see it. If anything, the Kel-Morians had merely added to the cloud of space debris as their ships were broken and destroyed in the empty void.

"Jesus," whispered Horner. "Commander, you saw it didn't you?"

"What the cannon?" demanded Warfield. "Who could have missed it? The damn thing took out nearly their entire fleet! Where the hell did they get from? I thought the Confederates burned all records of the weapon!"

"It's not the cannon," said Raynor slowly. "Those ships were marked even after all the Dominion paint and insignias had been put on. They weren't Dominion ships."

Matt tightly squeezed his fists. "They were Mira Han's."

OOO

He has it. He has it. He has it.

Everything was coming together now. Even with all her exciting reporting, Lockwell could hardly believe such elaborate conspiracies existed outside of fiction. How could Donny have it? There were rumours, in fact direct confirmations that he had it. But the sector had brushed these claims off as baseless. She had underestimated Donny, as had the rest of the sector. If he truly did have it, this changed everything. Disregarding the biggest story in Sector history, if what Donny said was true, he had the power to shake the very foundations of the entire Dominion forever. Everything made sense now. It all was fitting together. The puzzle pieces had been aligned and an undeniable picture was beginning to form. One piece was missing. The peanut butter stared Kate in the face, almost urging her on.

The reporter took a deep breath. She was crazy for even considering it, but she was a reporter. It was her job to uncover the truth. Even she couldn't afford to be a sceptic anymore. The proof was there for anyone observant enough to see. It explained Donny's abrupt dismissal from UNN and unceremonious patient status within the Dominion Mental Health Center even when he had shown no prior signs of psychosis or mental illness. It explained the surplus of armed guards at the Mental Health Center. It explained why he had asked her to look up the story. It explained everything. Even the peanut butter.

If Donny truly did have it, then he wasn't nearly as crazy as she had been lead to believe. He was the sanest one in the sector.

* * *

**Author's Note: It seems to have become a habit for me to apologize about the long wait. I had this chapter all ready to post and then the Japanese Earthquake happened. It didn't seem right to post it. And then I found it increasingly difficult to write with everything going on in Japan including the nuclear meltdown. I knew a lot of good people in Japan, haven't heard from half of them. Anyway, here's the next chapter. The Revolution is once again in full swing. I've attempted to organize this whole Koprulu sector with designated systems and planets within them. I pulled together known systems and planets within Starcraft lore and organized it in a more structured fashion. Also, please give me some insight if you understand the whole Lockwell-Vermillion plot line. I'm really trying to do it right without revealing everything overtly but if its not working, I don't want to confuse people. Hope you enjoyed it and please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

A Protoss dropped to his knees screaming in pain. A detached limb lay lifelessly next to him. The shimmering hue of the psionic blade made the blood glisten and shimmer. Artanis, Hierarch of the Protoss, was kneeling before the Civil Council, one hand on his weapon, the other tending to the cauterized wound near his head. His glare to the Council both terrified and shocked the other Protoss beyond belief. Next to Artanis laid his nerve appendages. Limping over to a table, Artanis grabbed the energy clamp, placing it firmly over his head in pain.

The council had yet to say a word.

"This is of your doing," hissed Artanis in pain. "You have forced me to this extreme and you have become the target of my greatest hatred. You, fiends, have made me alien from my own species! I would not have you attempt to gain control of my mind once more."

The council's eyes rested still on the blade.

"I will not kill you," stated Artanis, finally. "I am not a tyrant. Opposition is not silenced but those unjust will be...regulated accordingly. You are the most lost I have ever known. And for only that reason, shall I allow you to live, to perhaps regain any honour you once had. But first..."

Several Dark Templar appeared in the room. A distinguished sound of a flurry of warp blades was followed by the cries of lesser Protoss. The Council fell, gripping their respective heads.

"Now you may never taint another mind," whispered Artanis. "Who knows how many you have manipulated through the years. Now you feel my pain. Now you face my future – one of isolation brought about by none other than yourselves. For while you may never again touch my mind, there are others who may dare to try. I will not allow my efforts to save my people be sabotaged by you or anyone else. And I _will_ save my people, even in disgrace."

The Dark Templar forcefully shoved the disbanded Council members from Artanis' chambers. Gently, Artanis touched his energy clamp. It felt alien to him, ill-fitting and uncomfortable. But this was his future. He would never again feel the warm embrace of the Khala. He would never again be wholly Protoss.

OOO

"Mira Han's forces were...ruthless," whispered Valerian. "They didn't even try and issue diplomatic solutions. They just slaughtered the Kel-Morians."

"She performed it exactly as I would have," replied Arcturus, an evil smile, extending the length of his face. "We were right in hiring her services. She was particularly...efficient. Perhaps I will keep her around longer. Her forces are potent."

"But still..."

"Don't dare defend those bastard Kel-Morians!" roared Mengsk, suddenly. "You saw the fleets! They were not sent on a diplomatic mission! They were headed straight for the throne world! They've just sowed the seeds of their own undoing. Do you understand that son? They just declared war on us!"

"Well, news of this will get out within the next day or so. How are we to act?"

"The Kel-Morians won't try that again," Mengsk sneered. "Not after this botched attack. But we can't do anything about the Combine just yet. The Umojans still pose a formidable threat."

Valerian fidgeted uncomfortably. "What does the Protectorate have anything to do with this? The Kel-Morians attacked us, not the Umojans."

"If we counter-attack the Combine, the Umojans will help them," sighed Mengsk. "They have an unparalleled intelligence network that might very well extend to this throne itself. The sneaky bastards can create carnage in a less brute force way, but more important way than the Kel-Morians. Right now, Umoja poses a larger threat to us than Kel-Moria does."

"But we can't just destroy Umoja!" exclaimed Valerian.

There was a long pause.

"No, we can't," reasoned Mengsk, pacing around the room. "The Umojan Protectorate exists as a very bizarre state, unlike any other in this sector. Umoja is their homeworld but it is not their center. The Protectorate has no center. Umojans have spread across the sector like a disease. But they are fiercely patriotic and unequivocally loyal to the Protectorate. We could destroy Umoja today, but the state would exist still. If Moria falls, so does the Combine. Alas, that's not the case for the Umojan Protectorate. They have spies everywhere, elements everywhere. You know this better than most. Before we make a move on Moria, we must deal with the Umojans."

Mengsk slid his hands across the bindings of his new manifesto. It's velvet smooth texture filled him with confidence.

"It is time for Dominion expansion," the emperor whispered. "We've played nice with the Kel-Morians and the Umojans but no longer. We recovered from the zerg attacks and have put down the separatist movement. Only the Protectorate and the Combine stand in the way between the Dominion and total Sector control. The Koprulu sector belongs to the Dominion. The Koprulu sector belongs to me."

OOO

Engines roared and cringing metal rang through the air with resolve. Preparations had been made. Thors and their A.R.E.S. brothers had already been stored, followed by the siege tanks and diamondbacks. The infantry had already begun resettling into their familiar living quarters within the massive BattleCruisers. Banshees and Vikings raced through the sky, patrolling for any hint of hostile activity. An attack on their forces, now consolidated and defenceless, would be very costly.

Raynor stood at the steps of the Observatory with Matt Horner, General Warfield and Kerrigan by his side. Nova had mysteriously vanished again. Raynor couldn't worry about her right now. Artanis descended the steps, leaning on Zeratul for support. Fenix, Selendis and Mohandar accompanied him.

"Artanis...your head..." started Raynor.

"We don't live in a world where we have the luxury of following every rule," repeated Artanis, warmly. "Thank you for reminding me of that. I was forced to take drastic measures to ensure we survive. And we will survive, in no small part thanks to you."

"What will you do?" asked Horner.

"For now, we wait," spoke Executor Selendis. "We will secure our skies and bolster the ranks of the Protoss. Soon, we will make a push to secure the Aiur system itself."

"Do not get ahead of yourself, young Selendis," sighed Fenix. "Our first priority, as agreed upon, is to you, my friend. In helping us with our struggle, the Protoss have pledged to aid you with yours."

"Call upon us, and your enemies will fear," spoke Mohandar.

"I will stop by every now and again," spoke Zeratul, in a mysteriously elated tone.

Artanis stepped forth. "Honourable Raynor, you have helped the Protoss time and time again in our greatest time of need. Words fall short of how much you have aided us. The Protoss would be lost without you. I would have been lost without you. You are a hero of the Protoss, James Raynor. That is a title not easily forgotten. When the time permits it, call upon us, my friend. Fight and we will fight with you. Charge and we will charge with you. We owe you that much."

Both groups of different races, backed away. The gruff and tenacious terrans, made for their ships. Their resolve was unbreakable and their goal, clear and within grasp. The golden Protoss, ascended back to the Observatory, watching as their allies and saviours left their new reclaimed world, off to combat the likes of tyranny and monsters. The two races would join again, one day fighting side by side to fend off the coming storm. But until then, one race sought to recover, the other sought to free itself.

Onboard the Hyperion, Raynor looked out onto the blackness and the stars. Matt Horner stood next to him. Not a word was spoken. The ambient beeps of working technology became a trance. This was where they belonged.

"So we're really going after the Dominion this time," spoke Horner, not believing his own words. "No more underground operations, no more beating around the bush. We're really going after Mengsk."

"He's gonna get what's coming to him sooner or later," said Raynor. "And I'd like to be the one to send him to hell. And I'm not the only one on board who feels that way as well. How soon will we reach the Prime system?"

"Soon."

"I want all men at battle stations and a full readiness level when we enter the system," Raynor spoke seriously. "I don't like defeating the enemy then going to one of their only remaining strongholds. If we're lucky the zerg won't even know we're there. And if we're unlucky, well I don't want them getting the jump on us like..."

"Like Mira," finished Matt quietly. "I knew she was ruthless but I never thought she would lower herself to work for Mengsk and the Dominion."

"They must have presented her quite the offer."

"No doubt," laughed Horner humourlessly. "We should have seen it coming. She betrayed us once, and then broke our agreement. I hear she murdered Colonel Orlan too. I'm willing to nearly half of all the prisoners of New Folsom serve or served under her. She takes piracy to a whole new level. She's a conniving little-"

"Easy there, Matt. This doesn't have to be personal."

"It already is personal!" fumed the captain. "Never again, you hear me? I ain't ever gonna play another game without first knowing the stakes and the prizes. But if she thinks some flimsy marriage paper is going to keep me from giving her what she deserves, well she has another one coming for her."

The pair went silent. The Commander knew there was more to this whole situation between Matt and Mira Han. But he wouldn't press it. Horner seemed confused enough already.

"We do have an opportunity though," interjected the second in command. "Last time we went to the Prime System it was Sigmaris Prime – you remember right? Its moon, Valhalla – the one we stole the Odin from – had another big experimental machine."

"The Loki," stated Raynor.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Matt. "Last time, we couldn't take it on after the losses we sustained. Even the Odin was taking a beating from it. But now, I'd say a battlecruiser like that would be invaluable. We should seize the chance and take it. With the Galapagos and the Zephyr gone, our list of supercruisers is dwindling. We got the Jackson's Revenge, the Ardent and the Hyperion of course. Adding the Loki to our ranks would increase our strength plenty. Rory's good, but not as good as a whole team of Dominion Engineers with access to the best gear the sector has to offer. Who knows what they loaded onto that monster of a ship, the Norad IV. Then we'd still be squared off against that giant Bucephalus."

"Then make it quick. I want to spend as little amount of time near Antiga Prime as possible," shrugged Raynor, leaving the deck.

"Where are you going?" called Horner.

Raynor turned around. "I got the two best ghosts in the sector on my ship. One's the top Confederate ghost and a recovering drug addict. The other is the top Dominion ghost and is as enraged as she is unstable. And to make matters worse, they're both women. Where do you think I'm going? I'm already whipped to my crew..."

Roars of laughter filled the air as Raynor left the room.

Raynor found himself in the armoury. This floor of giant metal rooms still amazed Raynor. He found his chief engineer lounging about, riffling through money. The moustached man spotted his commander, waving him over.

"Hey their cowboy, feeling all better?"

"I've been worse," said Raynor, smiling. "And thanks by the way back on Antioch. I'd be lying in a crater if it wasn't for you."

"Well you wanna put some money down?" asked the engineer. "I've made a nice few bucks so far. Those Predator things Stetmann came up with, their nuts man! We can't control them anymore. So we're just throwing a pair of them in a cage and placing money on who's still standing and who's a pile of scrap metal."

"I think I'll pass. Actually, I'm just looking for Kerrigan."

A loud beep and a heavy contact with his shoulder stunned Raynor to glance behind him. He saw Sarah standing several feet away, sitting atop a few stacked ammo boxes.

"Don't mind Obi," she called.

On cue, the trusty Observer uncloaked and began spinning his single eye. Raynor watched in mild confusion. Perhaps Kerrigan was becoming a little lonely. Befriending a faulty alien robot wasn't exactly his idea of companionship.

"What's with the observer?" asked the commander, approaching the redhead.

"Don't blame me, it followed me," replied Sarah, smoothly.

"And you don't seem too worried by that."

"Well, as every other Protoss technician mentioned to me, this particular observer is a malfunctioning piece of hardware. And seeing as the Protoss are our allies now, it's not like they would be spying on us. Even if they could, Obi's broken anyway."

"Obi? You named a robotic stealth unit?" questioned Raynor incredulously. "Okay, this is getting a little weird."

"He keeps me distracted from...well you know," Kerrigan strayed off. "And it's a pretty nifty way of keeping an eye on the ship."

"On the ship or on me?" asked the commander flatly.

"Whichever you prefer," she responded sweetly. "Anyway, did you just come over here to talk to me about my robot fetish?"

"It's a fetish now?" demanded James Raynor. "Never mind. I came down here to tell you exactly what we're going to do."

"We're going after the Dominion," said Kerrigan instantly and almost apathetically. "We're going to park our fleet over Dylar IV and then rain some hell on the Dylarian Shipyards. After that, who knows? There's way too many things to consider. The Kel-Morian Combine might try another attack, the Protectorate might make their move as well, that damned Hybrid could show up somewhere else and most importantly of all, the Dominion could regroup and counterattack us from either the Korhal, Brontes or Braxis system."

Raynor would have questioned her suspicious knowledge of the situation were it not for the observer spinning around her head.

"I need to know you can handle going after Mengsk," spoke the tentative commander. "The difficulty in bringing down both the Dominion and its plethora of systems will be difficult enough without ghosts running angry and stupid everywhere, bloodthirsty for Mengsk."

Sarah looked down. "You know what he did to me, what he put me through," she said quietly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to put a bullet through his head myself. In fact, I want it badly. Arcturus is cold, ruthless, manipulative and remorseless. But I have a responsibility. Remember back on Haven? I have a responsibility for every person I killed as the Queen of Blades...for every life I ruined. I was given a second chance. And I'm not about to waste it on the likes of revenge...or drugs. I hate him yes. And I wish him dead yes. But I hunt him for you first, myself second. I've put my vendetta aside. Mengsk will die, not for what he did to me, but for what he's done to all of us."

Raynor nodded, understandingly.

"Jim, I've already lost myself twice," said the ghost. "Once to the zerg and then once to the stimpacks. I'm not about to let revenge suck me in as well."

"Glad to hear it," sighed Raynor, appreciatively. "That's one less thing for me to worry about. Anyway, we're about to enter the Prime system. Make sure you're ready. If what we know is accurate, since their defeat on Char and Aiur, Antiga Prime is their last stronghold. Let's hope nothing foul is waiting for us back on that forgotten world."

Kerrigan nodded. Jim wanted to embrace her, tell her how strong she was being, how remarkable of a woman she was. But this wasn't the time. It was never the time. Between fighting the zerg and then the Dominion and then this prophecy, it was likely that the commander and the ghost wouldn't get more than a few minutes with each other at any given time. He reached out, cupping her small face tenderly as she beamed. Their kiss was appropriately brief.

"Before you said ghosts," said Kerrigan suddenly. "You said ghosts not ghost."

Raynor shot her a knowing look.

Kerrigan sighed. "I'll go talk to November."

OOO

General Winston Duke laid down his spent cigar, bathing in the smoke while his subordinates tried to conceal their discomfort and quiet their coughs. Behind him, the soft tunes of Beethoven's 3rd blared in full force. Why the earth-born decided to pack this in with the ships, no one knew. But the Eroica seemed to fit well with the new Duke General. He set down his victory glass, basking in the presence of the Norad IV. Winston Duke had entered into the military out of family tradition, not ambition or strength. The Dominion seemed to place a large emphasis on legacies. That was to be expected, especially with Emperor Mengsk and the heir apparent, Prince Valerian. The General smiled at his good fortunes. Nothing would suppress his mood. Even as the Emperor himself called the General, chastising him for his tactical error on Orunu Sigma.

"Screw the Emperor," said Duke, aloud, albeit softly.

This was the sort of thanks that the General got after simply trying to secure extra resources for the Dominion. Their attack site on Orunu Sigma was meticulously chosen. It was a haven for minerals. The only downside was having to closely shepherd the Hybrid to make sure it stayed on track. And then they were unfortunately caught. Mengsk had previously warned the new general that auxiliary objectives were not to compromise the primary, but Duke's greed got the better of him.

_"So what?"_ rationalized the general. _"The Kel-Morians figured it out, big deal. Their attack didn't do shit anyway."_

Duke thought of the criminal Raynor. They had never met unfortunately. Duke was equally sick of Mengsk's tirades on the man as he was about the fringe colonial appraisal for the man. When they would meet in person, face to face on the battlefield, Duke would judge his character for himself. Supposedly he was an excellent tactician with a wide array of combat knowledge to boot. And he was experienced, the one thing Winston Duke was missing. However, he had the backing of the strongest faction, alien or otherwise, in the Koprulu Sector. He had command of the most technologically advanced warship in known space. And he had the undying devout loyalty of his soldiers. It surprised the young general to no end that he had become something of a Cult of Personality. He supposed his name had much to do with that. General Warfield had been a legend in his own right who's accomplishments included having secured the entire Torus sector from the zerg with one small measly battle group. But still, General Edmund Duke's accomplishments dwarfed that of the General Warfield. Men saw Winston Duke as the reincarnation of that man, and so long as it assured him loyalty, Winston Duke wasn't about to question that. He wasn't even that fond of his late uncle. They barely spoke. And when Winston Duke thought of his uncle's killer, the Queen of Blades, he was filled with joy rather than vengeance. He wished to thank her for creating circumstances for his ascension. But he'd kill her all the same.

The Norad IV and the rest of the ships were on route back to the Shipyards. The Emperor felt that the revolution had been decidedly doused. Though Winston Duke did have to admit, storing the Hybrid in the Norad IV, no matter how secure the scientists claimed it to be, was...unsettling. Every tremble onboard the ship, Duke feared it to come from the escape of the Hybrid. Their countermeasures had been impeccably effective, but Duke had seen the carnage of Tyrador IX, Tyrador III, mayhem at Brontes I and massacre at Orunu Sigma. It would only take a few seconds for a loose Hybrid to cause a lot of trouble for this new pristine ship. He had thought many times about throwing the Hybrid out the airlock. Alas, while Duke held not respect for the Emperor, Dominion reprisal would be severe if he were to throw away Mengsk's needed asset. This was Mengk's tool for forced loyalty and Duke was the one weilding it. The fleet was headed back to the core worlds to re-supply and refuel but Duke knew it wouldn't be long until they were back out here again.

When all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail

OOO

"How are we Matt," demanded Raynor.

"So far, so good," noted the captain. "No zerg flyers detected. No disturbances of any kind. Maybe we caught a break. I sent a probe out to Sigmaris Prime. If we can locate the Loki again on Valhalla, this will have all been worth it."

"Don't hold your breath," cautioned Raynor. "The Dominion has probably already shipped that thing back to Korhal or Dylar. Anyway, reposition the fleet. Move the Husky back from the extremities. If we're attacked, it's too fragile to hold its own without other Battlecruiser support. Make sure the Jackson's Revenge brings up the rear. I want those dual Yamato Cannons prepped to fire."

"Being a little paranoid sir?" bemused Horner.

"Just cautious, Matt," spoke the Commander wisely. "As much as we hurt the zerg, they'll be back. They always come back. And sneaking right past their stronghold is just asking for trouble. And to top it off, I think we have a problem with Nova."

"Ghosts are trouble," sighed Matt, frustratingly. "When have you _not_ had trouble with one ghost or the other? I'm starting to think Nova is more trouble than she's worth. I mean, General Warfield wants her head for the stunt she pulled at the Heavenly Mountain Pass, even if it was for good reason. And she just so happens to be an heir to the Dominion throne as well as a former Dominion operative."

"I'm starting to agree with you," murmured the commander. "But if we let her go now, she'll go on a killing spree just to get to Mengsk, and in the process, she'll get herself killed. But I can't deploy her like this. She's too unstable and I can't seem to figure out why. When you have time, go and fetch her helmet camera footage from the Antioch battle. I want to see what shook her up."

Matt nodded. "Wait a sec, the probe's footage is coming up now. It's too soon...it's not even half way to Sigmaris Prime. What the hell is it transmitting?"

"Footage coming up now!" declared an officer. "Location is...Antiga Prime."

The screen flickered to life and all on the bridge went silent. Eyes were glued to the screen in disbelief and absolutely no one aboard knew what to make of it.

"Jesus Christ," whispered Raynor. "What the hell is this?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Don't get mad, I'm not forgetting about the Protoss! But there are some terran matters that need to be addressed and resolved in this part of the story. And I can't do that with Protoss wandering about. I would either have to forcefully and badly include them into this plot or simply ignore them, which is not something I plan on doing. The Protoss will return. Take Obi as a little comfort while you wait. For those confused about Antiga, I will reveal it next chapter, but seeing as I took a long break, go back and read Chapter 24. It might hint as what's to be made of Antiga Prime. Once again, thanks for reading and please review.**


	30. Chapter 30

Lockwell's mind was a haze. She was operating on auto-pilot...autopilot and coffee. Her whole day was blurring. She'd surely mess up somewhere, but now, she wasn't sure that she cared. Her day at the UNN center in Augustgrad was the likes of which she couldn't focus on. As if her own body was moving on its own out of instinct, at the regular hour, she hauled herself from her office into the studio to record the news once again.

_ GET ME OUT_

Kate stopped and took a second to compose herself. The cameraman, perpetually happy – creepy in fact – continued to beam. Several people came towards Lockwell to dab her face with a brush and try and remove any impurities that the camera would pick up. Her assistant in charge of prepping her was saying so much. If only he realized it was falling on deaf ears. Lockwell was in something of a drunken stupor. The teleprompter lines slowly descended across the small black screen directly beside the camera. Like a good journalist, Lockwell faithfully read from it, despite not having written it or even knowing what it was about.

"Hi, this is Kate Lockwell from the UNN. We have learned that the Kel-Morian colony Sigma Orunu has been attacked by the vicious Hybrid. In blind retaliation, the Combine falsely accused the Dominion of utilizing the beast as a weapon. A military battle group was sent to the edges of Korhal space where they were subsequently defeated by Dominion military forces. Emperor Mengsk has made no comment on any possible retaliation or punitive measures to be placed against the Kel-Morian Combine. And with the closing of the Kel-Morian embassy several years ago, it is impossible to know what the Kel-Morians think of the situation. In other news, Tyrador IX continues to rebuild. Planetary Superintendant Catherine Regina has reluctantly agreed to retake her post until the recovery of the planet is finished. By the looks of it, that will take some time."

_ GET ME OUT_

"T-th-the Jan...Jandara system put forth a proposal that was decidedly shot down by nearly all the Systemic Chancellors as well as the Emperor himself. This proposal would sanction limited free trade between the various terran factions. As we all know, the Umojan Protectorate has been placed under economic embargo and trading with them is illegal. The Jandaara economy continues to suffer as unemployment is rising daily. The various donations by charitable foundations including a sizeable contribution by Mobius Foundation, have done little to jumpstart their downward spiralling economy."

"Finally, it seems that the Chancellors, also known simply as the Twelve, are convening today. This will be the first time in Dominion history where the College of Chancellors have convened for an external issue. This news was slipped by assistant to Chancellor Hide of the Nephor system. Whatever is going down at the Dominion Chancellery, odds are, it'll be big. And that's your quick fix for today. Check back for our full coverage of the latest stories in the sector at seven o'clock. For UNN, I'm Kate Lockwell."

_GET ME OUT_

She stumbled off the set awkwardly as soon as the recording light dimmed. Several people congratulated her. She ignored them. Her editor-in-chief tried to reprimand her for excluding another Raynor story. She ignored him too. She was back at her desk, alone. A dim screen flickered alluringly. Her keyboard was cracked from her vicious tendency to type as hard as possible. The coffee was bitter. Everything today was bitter. Everything but the peanut butter. She tried to ignore it, but her gaze continually returned to the jar of peanut butter.

_GET ME OUT_

Those words were haunting. They kept her up at night. She tried to sleep. She tried to forget. But the truth was out there somewhere. And she was a reporter. She had to find it. She took a long hard stare at the jar of peanut butter, still exactly as full as it had been yesterday and then the day before that and the day before that.

_GET ME OUT_

She couldn't take it anymore.

"Alice!" she cried. "I'm taking off. Put it on one of my personal days."

She grabbed her purse, her identification, several wads of bills, a little mace and then the peanut butter. If she could not have it near her, she might lose the resolve for what she was about to do. In an hour, the Dominion Mental Health Center was about to lose a patient.

OOO

It was...blue.

That was the only descriptor that anyone could give Antiga Prime. The last time they were here, it was a barren wasteland with arid ground lacking of any major body of water. It was a planet of rocks and dried up creeks.

What they saw now was incredible. Antiga Prime was blue.

"Confirm!" barked Horner to his subordinates. "Is that H2O? What the hell is going on?"

Antiga Prime was submerged in water. It covered every piece of land visible to the Probe. The Probe circled in closer to the enigmatic planet.

"I don't get it!" said Matt, confused as he scratched the back of his head. "Antiga Prime used to be an oceanic planet, but that was centuries ago! It's not one of the planets due for terraformation and nothing this drastic could have happened unnoticed."

"Something's wrong here," Raynor said. "Planets don't undergo aquatic reformation...not this quickly. It was predicted that Antiga Prime would go back to its oceanic state, but not for another thousand years. Check for life forms!"

"There's no way any zerg down there could have survived," commented Matt. "Sir, what the hell is going on? Did the zerg do this? Because the planet didn't do this by itself. If the zerg can somehow manipulate planets to this extent, we're in even bigger trouble than before. Maybe it's an effect from the creep biomass. Or maybe there was some covert Dominion operation to secretly terraform Antiga Prime and weaken the zerg...no, no, no. Terraformation is anything but subtle! The zerg would have detected it immediately!"

"The zerg couldn't have done this. Neither could we," spoke Raynor slowly. "In the Ihan Crystal the prophecy spoke of a mysterious figure. It was a beast of incomprehensible strength. They called it the Fallen One. If I had to guess, I'd say it's the one behind this."

"You think a mythical beast from a prehistoric prophecy would be able to destroy an entire planet filled with his only potential allies?" asked Horner, flatly. "Seems like a stretch to me."

"There's no other explanation," explained the commander. "Nothing is this powerful, nothing except that which we do not know. And the unknown...it's unimaginably strong. Whatever this Fallen One is, it's more powerful than any of us thought."

"So does that mean the zerg are all dead?" quipped the captain.

"I have no idea," admitted the commander. "That's what doesn't make sense. Why would the Fallen One do this?"

"Because the last Cerebrate in the sector was there," spoke Kerrigan, entering the room silently.

"How do you know that?" asked Matt, suspiciously.

"Because I...the Queen of Blades banished him there after defeating the Dominion, the UED and the Protoss. She had no more use for him. But instead of killing the cerebrate, she banished it to Antiga Prime. This is the cerebrate that must have been controlling the zerg on Antioch after Zeratul killed Duran."

"And their attack failed..."

The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to align.

"So this Fallen One kills the last cerebrate for failure? What about the millions of other zerg? Did they die with the cerebrate?"

"Hostile forces detected!" shouted an officer. "We've got zerg flyers inbound. Numbers are in the hundreds! I count two...no three Leviathans! They're coming from the Valhalla Moon on Sigmaris Prime. They're coming in fast!"

"Engagement?" demanded Horner.

"Not with this many zerg," responded the commander. "Recall all patrols back to the hangar bays. Prep all ships for warp jump. Matt, plot us a course!"

The captain rushed over to the Starmap. He began doing quick calculations in his head, looking over every possible system within reach.

"Tarsonis is our best bet!" yelled Horner over the commotion. "It's either that or Dominion controlled Brontes!"

"I'll take it! Notify all captains for imminent jump! Get us out of here!"

OOO

"I-I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?" asked the director, awkwardly.

"You don't watch the news much, do you?" said Lockwell, plainly. "I work for the Universal News Network. One of your patients is also one of our former employees. I've been assigned to cover a tribute story for Donny Vermillion. I'm going to have to take him outside for some interviews."

"Well...w-why can't you just do it inside the facility?" asked the director again. The uncertainty was thick in his voice.

"This isn't any place to conduct a proper interview!" exclaimed Lockwell, feigning insult. "Look, I saw the reports. He's not violent or anything. All I want to do is take him to Angus Square and ask him some questions. It's within walking distance. We'll be back before you know it."

"I-I...I don't think so Miss. We got to protect our patients."

"You know," started Lockwell, intelligently. "A little bird's been telling me that the Dominion Mental Health Center is severely underfunded. A story like this could put you back in the public eye, maybe give you some clout in demanding more funding from the throne."

"Well...I...you...you be back within an hour, you hear?" said the director, finally.

"Thank you, Director," said the reporter graciously.

Lockwell turned away, heading to Donny's cell. She could barely control her terror. She was sweating of fear and it took everything in her to quell the trembling in her hands. She walked down the empty hallways. By now, she had pretty much memorized the layout of the facility. The guards stepped aside as Kate opened the door, stepping into the familiar room. Donny was laying on the floor, rhythmically banging his head lightly on the solid concrete beneath him. He turned as the noise reached his ears. The surprised look on his face was dwarfed by an elongated smile stretching from one ear to the other. Lockwell fought hard not to return the gesture.

"Come on Donny," she spoke in a professional tone. "You've been granted temporary leave of the Dominion Mental Health Center. I will accompany you to Angus Square where we'll be discussing some things for an upcoming UNN story. If you would follow me please."

Kate motioned towards the door. Donny moved ever slowly. His eyes darted around, looking for threats. He found none. Kate placed her hand on his back as they exited the door. Donny jumped at the touch and merely kept walking down the hallway. His small shuffling got quicker. He was now taking long strides towards the exit which was now within sight. Trembling, Donny opened the doors and let the Korhal sun bath him in light. He exhaled noisily with his eyes closed. Lockwell didn't have time to stop. She ushered him out quickly, breaking his libertarian euphoria. They descended the steps quickly. Lockwell lost count of how many times she was glancing over her shoulder.

Something in the back of her mind told her that it wasn't going to be this easy. The pair marched quickly across the street. Having put a safe distance between them and the center, Kate quickly pulled him down an alley into Confederate Street. It was desolate and filled with poverty. The road was poorly maintained and it served as a reminder of the tyranny of the Confederacy. Mengsk had all this propaganda down to a science. They turned and entered a narrow sub-street. Making sure for the last time that they weren't being followed, Kate Lockwell violently grabbed Donny's collar, shaking him furiously.

"Where is it Donny? Where is Mengsk's manifesto?"

OOO

The Dark Voice watched, amused as the little ships blinked from view. It laughed at the petty technology of the terrans. He could have followed them to the ends of the universe, easily outrunning their paltry warp engines. But it was not concerned, not in the least bit. The zerg deployment had been nothing more than a test. Controlling the zerg as an outsider wasn't as difficult as the Dark Voice had expected. The zerg were savage creatures with small minds and negligible intelligence. They needed a leader. And they found the Dark Voice. The Overlords – the only strain which had developed some form of cognitive independence – showed signs of disdain after the loss of their cerebrate. But the sheer power that the Fallen One commanded terrorized them into fidelity. Even Overlords knew better than to resist that which could destroy entire worlds.

But the zerg disgusted him. They were impure. Even now, it could sense zerglings scampering around, desperate for approval. It was sickening, revolting and enraging. The Dark Voice reminded itself of its mission. It would endure this deplorable moment. It wished that its servant, Duran had still been here. He was better at engaging with these lowlifes. Alas, he had been killed by the hands of the Protoss Zeratul. Duran had been useful. As the last of his species, Duran worshipped the Xel'Naga, his creators. Any order was followed without question and any demand was met instantly. He was easy to manipulate. Coupled with his innate ability to transfigure his body to his own liking, Duran was a valuable agent indeed. But he was not a Xel'Naga. He was not even one of the potential candidate species like the Protoss and the Zerg. He was an old experiment, back when the Xel'Naga were only beginning to create life. It was quickly discarded and it came to no surprise that most of them died off within 8000 years, one of the Xel'Naga's shortest lived race, one of their failures. But Duran had performed his duty appropriately. And for that the Dark Voice was grateful.

The Dark Voice was aware of whom that ship was carrying. And it did not worry him. The Terran Sarah Kerrigan was aboard that ship. The Dark Voice was not moved to fear or anxiety. The second that its artefact had been utilized, that life form ceased to be the Queen of Blades. She was no longer a threat. And she would die just as easy as all the rest.

Relocating the zerg to Valhalla of Sigmaris Prime, hadn't been the easiest task, but it had been accomplished. However, they still faced a shortage of beasts. Frustratingly, the Dark Voice resolved to wait a little while longer. Its end was near. Even it could sense that. But the zerg bred quickly and the Dark Voice could wait, at least for a little while. It had been waiting for over 3000 years.

"My brothers," whispered the Dark Voice. "Can you hear me? The return is imminent. _Your_ return is imminent. The Xel'Naga will soon reclaim their position in this chaotic universe. Be at ease, my brothers. I will shepherd you there. Do not fear. We go to purity."

OOO

"Did you hear me Donny!" asked Lockwell, angrily. "I just broke you out of that nuthouse because you told me, you guaranteed me that you 'had it'. Well where is it? Huh? I didn't just break the law and forfeit my career for nothing did I?"

"Not for nothing," whispered Vermillion. "I have it."

"Where?"

"I can't say, not here."

"Oh for God's sake, Donny!" Lockwell fumed exasperatingly.

"No! Not so loud!" cautioned Donny, alarmingly looking every which way. "It has to be this way. You have no idea what you're really dealing with. What I have? What I have is what Mengsk's cronnies would kill for. And yes I said kill for. Enough people have died already for this. They don't need your or me to add to the death count."

"Donny, I hardly think Dominion agents are listening in on Confederate Street of all places," argued Lockwell. Donny simply shot her a look that made her truly re-question his sanity. "Fine! What do you want to do?"

"We need to get out of this part of town," spoke Donny, quietly. "Let's get a transport and head downtown. It'll be safer."

He immediately broke away from Lockwell's grasp and began moving out of Confederate Street. Kate quickly followed him, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

"Are you kidding me? Downtown Augustgrad is safe? May I remind you that the Korhal Palace is situated downtown? You know the house of the man you stole from?"

"I didn't steal anything," replied Vermillion sharply. "Not here. Let's keep moving."

Donny kept his face down as they moved through the crowds. Many people nodded and smiled at Lockwell. She forced herself to return these greetings though she was about to throw up. The anxiety was crushing her. Her body was shaking even as she was walking down a harmless street filled with people. She could swear that there were eyes following her. Every shadow forced Kate's eyes to dart in that general direction. Every loud noise made her jump.

They cleared the crowd and continued to walk. They made sure to stay clear of the Korhal Incarceration Facility. The pair moved quickly through yet another crowd, this one protesting against the Dominion. Usually these little gatherings were ignored by the Emperor whose judgement was not decided by the will of his citizens. If things got a little out of hand, it was rumoured that Ghosts would be dispatched to make an example out of a few protestors and leave the rest so terrified that they'd never speak ill of the Dominion again.

"This is crazy!" breathed Lockwell. "I'm crazy. You better be good for it you son of a bitch."

Donny said nothing but continued to walk as fast as possible without arousing suspicion. Lockwell's nerves were on fire as she followed her former boss. She reached into her purse, touching the peanut butter. It calmed her slightly, reminding her of why she was doing this. She didn't just want the truth. For once, she needed the truth. The pair turned down another street. Kate recognized that they were heading for the Korhal Express. It was the premier planetary transportation across Korhal IV. From there they could go just about anywhere on the throne world. And if the paranoia was well justified, the pair would try to get as far away from the capital as possible.

Lockwell annoyingly kicked away an irritating Automatton 2000, one of the small robots running around the streets of Augustgrad, cleaning up the city. Curiously, they stayed away from Confederate Street. They passed a string of restaurants. Business was booming alas Lockwell knew that this was a stark contrast to the fringe systems and their desolate fringe worlds. An emporium was selling holo-cameras and hoverboards. Kate thought she even saw an outlawed PCD or Personal Cloaking Device. Stuff like that was usually only found on the black market run by the Nephor System. Kate realized that she could have probably found some use out of something like that were it not for the fact that it cost half a year's pay check.

_"These are dangerous times we live in. Do you want to keep yourself and your family safe? Get the family friendly Point Defence Drone, specified to keep you and your family free of harm. We also offer personalized Defence Matrixes to protect homes and for a fee of 50 000 credits, we offer the service of a memory swipe for a person of your choosing who is showing signs of aggression towards yo-"_

"Commercial bullshit," muttered Vermillion.

Lockwell struggled to keep up. It appeared that Donny desperately wanted to get away. But he wasn't going anywhere without her. She kept a firm hand on his arm as to not lose track of him in the crowd. They passed another slew of holoboards.

_ "The Dominion reminds you that James Raynor is an intersystem terrorist. Anyone seen with or caught consorting with said individual will be subject to the full measure of Dominion justice. If you know anything about terrorist James Raynor, please report it to the nearest Dominion agent."_

_ "The Dominion reminds you that in three weeks time, the 5__th__ annual commemoration of the end of the Brood Wars will take place in Augustgrad. The Dominion urges all citizens to show their support in attending ceremonies at Angus Square or the Korhal Palace."_

_ "The Dominion reminds you that artefacts or technology of alien origin have been deemed illegal and the use or trading of said materials is punishable by law. If you are in possession of any alien technology please surrender it to the nearest Dominion agent in the area."_

_ "The Dominion reminds you that the Emperor's birthday is in 12 days. Please come out and show your support of our steadfast leader who has protected us from enemies near and far."_

They were close now. The Express was within sight. Lockwell's neck muscles cringed from swinging her head back behind her shoulder every other minute. Her grip on Donny was the only thing stopping him from breaking into a sprint for freedom. She tightened her grip. A Ghost could come out of anywhere.

She crashed into Donny's back suddenly. Irritated, she was about to make a rude comment when she realized why Donny stopped. A second ago, there had been nothing in front of Donny. Now stood a fully clad Ghost operative, rifle in hand and face covered by an all-too intimidating helmet.

Donny stood still. His knuckles were white from his tightly closed fists.

"Excuse me Miss, where are you going," asked the Ghost, aggression already showing.

"I-I...I'm Kate Lockwell from the UNN," clarified the terrified reporter. "I'm working right now so I'd appreciate it if you-"

"You're working are you?" asked the Ghost testily.

"Y-Yes," stammered Lockwell.

"From the report by the Dominion Mental Health Center, you were said to escort patient Donny Vermillion into Angus Square to conduct an interview. What are you doing way out here?"

"We, we..."

"You said you were here on official business," stated the Ghost, dangerously. "Maybe I should check with your superiors on that."

Kate froze.

Even through the impenetrable helmet, she could sense the ghost smiling.

"Or maybe," whispered the Ghost. "Maybe there's no story at all. Maybe you're not really escorting the patient to Angus Square. Maybe you're trying to facilitate a rescue."

The Ghost leaned close into Kate's ear. "Where is the manifesto?"

Upon hearing that Donny made a break for it. He dashed only to find the solid fist of the Ghost operative crash into his face. The ex-reporter toppled over, grabbing his bloodied nose. With his other hand, the Ghost grabbed Kate's wrists.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere less public," warned the Ghost, sadistically.

He shoved Lockwell together with Donny. His hand was on his rifle. He motioned with his head. The pair, frozen with terror, had to find the resolve to obey the Ghost's orders and walk into the dimly lit alleyway he was motioning at. People took notice. But they wouldn't do a thing. Not to a Ghost. Behind her, Kate Lockwell dug deep into her bag. She could hear the rifle being removed from its holster. The ghost was levelling it.

_"He's going to shoot us right in the middle of the street!" _she panicked.

The reporter whipped around, holding her bottle of mace. The Ghost amusingly watched the reporter trying to stave off her inevitable execution. He wasn't intimated in the slightest. In fact he was restraining from laughing at the moment. Arm, trembling, Kate sprayed hard. The following mist hit the Ghost in the face. He stood standing. His helmet was a bit misty. Besides that, there didn't seem to be any other effect. Lockwell's hopes dropped. She was about to die for assaulting a Dominion agent.

Suddenly, the Ghost buckled. He coughed, holding his chest tightly. His knees gave way and he dropped his weapon to stabilize himself against the wall. There was a blur to Lockwell's left. Donny had made a break for the gun. Grabbing the rifle, Donny raised it above his head and sent it crashing down on the kneeling Ghost's neck. After two strikes the Ghost went down and didn't move.

"What the hell did you do?" shrieked Lockwell. "We're dead now, you hear me? We're dead!"

Furiously, Donny went up to her face, inches away. "You want the truth? Well this is what it takes to get it!" he shouted. "This ain't a game, Kate! These people will kill us to keep their secrets safe!"

Vermillion tossed the rifle aside and grabbed Lockwell's arm. "That Ghost followed us from the Mental Health Center. We can't go to the Express. We need a new plan."

"What about the embassy?" said Kate suddenly. "The Kel-Morian one is closed down but the Umojan one is still up. We could get refuge there and...wait never mind. It's not like the Dominion would respect those laws either."

Donny's face lit up. "No, no, no, no. The Umojan Embassy is good. Let's go there now. Come on!"

He started running. Before a terrified Lockwell followed, she looked down at her mace, wondering how it could truly incapacitate a Ghost. In fine print on the label it read: **Terrazine**

* * *

**Author's Note: So did you guess it? Did you catch the hints about Donny and the manifesto? Did you predict what was going to happen on Antiga Prime? Please let me know. I'm really happy to finally unveil the sub-plot with Lockwell and Donny Vermillion. It's something I've been working on for a while and I hope it makes the story even more interesting, adding a new plot to the mix. A dash of political thrill never hurt anyone. So please give me some feedback on it.**

**And here it is. After 30 chapters, over 120 000 words and almost 300 reviews, I count my blessings. I extend my thanks to everyone who has read and especially to those who have reviewed. Please continue to do so. I never thought the story would get so big, but I'm happy that it has. And so long as people keep reading, I'll keep writing. Next chapter will be posted tomorrow for those of you who actually read this stupid author note.**

**Finally, I have a very bizarre request for my readers. I understand that as much as the content is worth, the title and the summary of a story is truly what will draw people in. And to be honest, I've hated both my title and summary for a while now. It was a half-assed attempt and I don't really know what to do with it. And I know that as readers, you can't know exactly where this story is going to end up, but if you could somehow come up with possible title and summary suggestions, that would be nothing short of awesome. Please message your suggestions to me or simply do so in the review. Thanks again!**

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

BTW the story has been cancelled.

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE

MOVE ALONG NOTHING TO SEE HERE


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: I was going to make this big long author's note on April Fools telling everyone that the story was cancelled and that I was done with it. But you guys know me. I ain't that cruel, or that motivated. I'm a sucker for April Fools jokes so I kind of have this innate hatred for them as well. So for the record, this story is not cancelled and will run its course until the end. In this chapter, a new character will be introduced. I want all of you to envision him as Jesse Ventura. Enjoy the next chapter!**

* * *

12 years of grade school, 4 years of post-secondary at the prestigious Styrling Academy, gruelling internships at respected news organizations, an impeccable and flawless criminal record and Kate Lockwell had just thrown all of those accomplishments out of the window. She was a fugitive now. And no amount of public status could save her from the retribution of the Dominion. Their so called justice would be exacted with her death. She was sure of it now. Even as she raced behind her former Boss, she could hardly see a good ending to all of this. She had poisoned an elite Ghost operative of the Dominion, Donny had likely killed him, and now they were racing for the Umojan embassy of all places.

"Donny," called Lockwell, out of breath. "This is pointless. Even if we make it to the Umojan embassy, do you think the Dominion will acknowledge extraterritoriality? That's a weak claim at best, even if the Umojans miraculously support it. Mengsk won't see the difference between the streets of Augustgrad and the Umojan Embassy. As far as he's concerned, it's all still under his jurisdiction!"

Donny wouldn't respond. Again, Lockwell wondered if she'd made the right decision. Right now, it certainly didn't look like it. After getting rid of the ghost, they had darted across streets, through buildings, anywhere that could throw off a potential trail. Augustgrad was immense, easily the largest city in the sector. Getting from one place to the next, especially while doubling back like paranoid lunatics, wasn't easy or quick.

It seems though, that they had finally arrived. The Umojan embassy was small, as was appropriate given their level of political clout in the Dominion political arena. However it commanded an aura of respect. But neither fleeing journalist had the time to appreciate that right now. They sped through the glass doors, only to be stopped by a receptionist.

"Excuse me!" she called tersely. "May I help you?"

"Hi, we ne-" started Lockwell.

"We need to see the Umojan ambassador," spoke Donny Vermillion, deadpan. "And we need to see him now."

"I-I'm not sure that's possible," stuttered the receptionist. "One cannot simply walk into the embassy and demand an audience with the ambassador himself!"

"Oh please," sighed Vermillion. "It's not a hidden fact that the Umojan Ambassador has had nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs. The Dominion cuts him out of almost every discussion and you're telling me that he's somehow too busy?"

"You look awfully familiar. In fact both of you do," stated the receptionist, now reaching for the phone. "Maybe I should call-"

"Hey! Hey!" yelled Donny.

He was not yelling at her. Rather, he was yelling at the man who had just walked by. The man turned and gave Donny an inquisitive look.

"You know me!" Donny cried. "You know me!"

"Donny, that's the ambassador!" whispered Lockwell, incredulously.

The young female reporter didn't think she could pick her jaw off the floor anymore, yet she found herself stunned once again. The ambassador, a tall man with a thick muscular frame, made his way over to the pair. What he did next was even more surprising. The Ambassador grabbed Donny by the collar and dragged him into his office, beckoning Lockwell to follow. Roughly, he threw Donny into a seat. A scared Lockwell followed suit.

"What the hell are you doing here?" growled the Ambassador. "You're blowing my cover."

"I'm sorry, but we didn't have a choice," pleaded Donny.

Lockwell was bewildered. "Hello? Will someone please fill me in here?"

Donny's eyes did not move from the Ambassador's gaze. "Kate Lockwell, meet Ambassador Fars."

"How did you escape Mr. Vermilion?" he asked in a low voice. "Ever since your muck up, I've spent the last few months trying to secure your release!"

"It's cause of her," Donny pointed to Lockwell. "She broke me out."

"Ah," spoke the Ambassador, now curious. "And how much do you know, young miss?"

"Not as much as I'd like, and not nearly as much as I should...sir," replied Lockwell, defiant.

"Alright, I think this is a safe enough place to tell you," sighed Donny. "The story Kate, the story I told you to look up, do you remember it?"

"Y-yeah," said Lockwell, taken aback. "Someone broke into the Emperor's study and stole his manifesto. Rumours were that it was an Umojan."

Lockwell froze. Her jaw stopped working and while her mind was reeling from a possible explanation, her eyes made their way over to the muscular Umojan Ambassador, who had stayed quiet during all of this.

"_That_ Umojan?" she whispered to Donny, clearly designating the Ambassador.

"Don't sound so surprised. The Umojan intelligence network is unparalleled, Miss Lockwell," spoke the Ambassador, finally. "We have people everywhere. Yes, I am an Umojan operative, one of five sent to Korhal for a contingency plan, one which we would only execute if the Ruling Council decided that the Protectorate was in danger. In time of peril, the Ruling Council saw it fit to execute. Things...things didn't go as planned. Three of my fellow agents ended up dead and the fourth...well I won't get into that. In short, the mission failed, I was the lone survivor."

"But this is crazy!" whispered Lockwell, unbelievably. "You're the Umojan Ambassador to the Dominion! And you're also an assassin? This stuff doesn't happen in real life, it can't! And then you...you stole Mengsk's manifesto?" whispered Lockwell, unbelievably.

"Do you have any idea how much this means?" asked Donny, as serious as could be. "The manifesto was a god sent! Every little thing Mengsk has done, every person he's ordered killed, every detainee he's sent to New Folsom, all the secret sting operations kept from the public eye, all the truths he's covered up with propaganda, everything he's done in the past 6 years, it's here! What I have could rock the Dominion to its core. If released, it could take the whole empire down without firing a shot. This is the most important document in the sector!"

"And how did you end up with it?"

"As I said, the plan had failed," spoke the Ambassador. "We were assigned to assassinate Emperor Mengsk. We did not succeed. But it was and still is my duty to protect the Umojan Protectorate. I knew what I had stolen could change the entire political scene of the Terran race. The problem was, I didn't have the necessary means to broadcast it. Donny did."

"He reached out to me after Raynor's Raiders invaded the UNN Studios and broadcasted the truth about the Tarsonis incident," said Donny.

"After our only other media asset, Michael Liberty was killed by Mengsk's men, we had to get the message out somehow. And I relied on Mr. Vermillion for that – foolishly so."

"It wasn't my fault!" barked the former news anchor. "I had no idea they'd catch me so fast!"

"So the reports were true," whispered Kate. "You had Mengsk's manifesto when you were caught...and the peanut butter."

"That was just a copy," brushed off Vermillion. "The authentic manifesto is in my other apartment in Metalopolis. I'm not crazy, Kate. I just had to act that way. What I had done, it was punishable by death. The only reason I wasn't killed was because they wanted to know who I was working for and where the real manifesto was being kept."

"They...tortured you?" asked the reporter, horrified.

"Day after day, constantly," grimaced the reminiscing man. "They did things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. The torture...the beatings, it was...it was inhumane. I couldn't take it for much longer, and I knew that. I was going to crack eventually and I couldn't let that happen, for my brother's sake. He deserved better than the bullshit lies from the Dominion. So I feigned madness. I put on an act that had convinced my captors that they had tortured me into insanity and that I wouldn't be able to help them now with my mind turned to jelly. It worked, surprisingly enough. After about a week, they gave up and shipped me to the Dominion Mental Health Center, keeping a couple operatives nearby, just in case I slipped up."

Lockwell didn't know what to say. She didn't even recognize this Donny Vermillion. He was truly a different man, a marked man. His future was the future of all men if they didn't do something.

"Well, you can lay low here," cautioned the Ambassador. "Stay for a few days and let's hope this all blows over. If not, well we'll use the time to come up with a-"

The loud ring on the Ambassador's personal Holoboard was a warning before the three-dimensional face of the receptionist appeared in front of the Umojan ambassador.

"Sir, the Dominion Internal Security is here," she hushed.

"Shit!" exclaimed the Umojan. "Okay, just... Donny, stay here with Miss Lockwell. Let me handle this."

He exited swiftly, closing the door as fast as possible. Lockwell was about to collapse with anxiety. Sneaking a glance at Donny, however, she knew that it wasn't the case for him. The truth on Tarsonis and the torture he received must have changed him in more ways than one. He wasn't panicking rather than being concerned. She stayed her curiosity, curling up in a ball on the chair. She raised her knees up to her chest, trying to keep as quite as possible while not knowing what was going on behind the door.

"Is there a problem, officer?" demanded the Umojan. He stood a good half a foot over the Dominion Internal Security officer.

It was laughable. The Dominion was nothing short of a fascist state. The constabulary had slowly been removed and then replaced with a Dominion military force. It was Martial Law without the formalities.

"Ambassador Fars, I kindly ask for you to step aside," spoke the hardened soldier.

"Why's that?" demanded the Umojan, crossing his large arms.

"We've received reports that two Dominion fugitives, both employed or formerly employed by the UNN, have come here seeking refuge," spoke the soldier. "Now step aside."

Ambassador Fars stood unmoving. His height and muscular stature seemed to put off the soldier from doing anything drastic just yet.

"May I remind you, officer, this is an embassy," growled the Ambassador, dangerously. "You know what that means, son? This is foreign territory here. You have no jurisdiction within these walls."

"If you can point me to that law, then I'll gladly be on my way, but we both know that what you speak of is an outdated law mandated by a former government. Times have changed sir. My jurisdiction is over all of Korhal IV."

"You're not getting inside the embassy, son," warned the Ambassador, his arms tensing with apprehension.

"Ambassador step away now!" ordered the soldier, his hand edging towards his rifle. "If it is found that you are aiding and abetting a known fugitive of the Dominion, you will face the full punitive measures of Dominion justice, regardless of your nationality."

"Dominion justice; is that what you're calling it now?" roared Fars, testily. "It's just a code for making someone disappear without a trial or formal convictions."

"Ambassador I won't ask you again," stated the soldier. "I have a dozen men just around the corner. We _will_ gain access to this embassy, with or without your permission. If you..."

The officer stopped talking. His eyes travelled beyond the man in front of him. His gaze rested upon the thin walls of the Ambassador's office. It was lit and there were indistinguishable shadows of two objects...two people. The officer's eyes widened.

"Ambassador Fars you are under arr-"

The officer never finished his arrest. The large fist of the Ambassador collided with the officer's head. The receptionist screamed in shock. With his other hand, the Umojan grabbed the officer's rifle, smashing it into the wobbly soldier's neck. The commotion forced Donny and Kate out of the office. They saw the bloodied soldier on the ground, and the Ambassador wielding a rifle.

"Get out of here!" he roared. "I'll hold them off for you, but you got to get moving now! Take my old Vulture! It's stripped of weapons but its damn fast and untraceable."

He took a knee and fired several rounds at the approaching Dominion soldiers. "I'm counting on you two. Make all of this worth it! Find the manifesto and get it to the people!"

Donny nodded, knowingly. He grabbed Lockwell firmly and lugged her away. Lockwell tried to fight against him. She couldn't leave the Ambassador. Spy or not, the both of them had gotten him into this mess. It wasn't fair for him to pay for it.

"No!" yelled Donny, as Kate tried to break free. "If we stay, all three of us die, and the world stays ignorant. We have to get the truth. Fars is my friend too, but we can't stay! Come on!"

"Damn it!" cursed Kate, violently.

She once again, began running with Donny in tow. The Ambassador had already taken a round to the shoulder, but he fired still. The Dominion would pay for what they had done.

OOO

"All ships have reported in," sighed Matthew Horner. "Thank God. The Wallace blew her warp engine during the jump though. We're going to have to get Rory to fix her up."

Raynor stayed quiet, looking at the star chart with vacant eyes. His mind was elsewhere and Matt's report passed through him without inspection. The image was emblazoned into his mind. Antiga Prime had been completely transformed. Every law Raynor knew, defied what he had just seen. But the evidence was irrefutable.

"What are you thinking about, sir?" asked a concerned captain.

"Matt...sooner or later, when we're done with Mengsk...we're gonna have to face that thing," murmured the commander. "I never imagined what it was capable of. And now we know. And it scares the shit out of me."

"We don't know for sure."

"Come on Matt! You saw it yourself. Whatever that prophecy spoke of, it just turned a desert into an ocean! And it did it across the entire planet without any scanners noticing it! What can we do against something like that?"

"We have Kerrigan, remember," encouraged Horner. "And we got the Protoss, plenty of ships, and hopefully the allegiance of some of the Dominion systems. That's gotta be...wait a minute."

Matt squinted. The screen wavered. It then began fading slowly. Matt rushed over to the Deck's technician. He looked bewildered and just as confused. Slowly, the electronics in the room began to fade. The room was getting dark.

"What the hell?" Matt was confused. "All systems are shutting down. We're losing our power!"

"Damn it," groaned Raynor. "We must have passed through an electromagnetic field when we blindly warp jumped from the Prime System. We should have taken better precautions. The Tarsonis system is riddled with these things."

"All ships are reporting power loss," panicked the captain of the Hyperion. "We'll be dead in space in about a few minutes. This is just bad luck. There's nothing else we could have done. If we waited to make a proper route, the zerg would have been all over us."

"Rory, what do you make of this?" asked Raynor into his com.

"This field pulled a number on us!" roared the engineer. "The power's gone completely down. The engines are frying without any cooling! I can get the backup power generators online, but their only gonna last a couple hours, cowboy. And it'd be more than my life's worth to try and restart the engines while were in a vacuum."

"Alright," sighed Raynor. "What planet are we closest to?"

"Tarsonis," reported Matt.

"Set us down, nice and easy," ordered the commander. "Once we land, I want every technician in my command to be working on fixing the engines and the cooling as well. I want to be in and out of Tarsonis before anyone notices. Matt, set her down near that train line we ambushed all those months ago. There are probably some supplies we can use to help with the repairs. This is some damned bad luck."

"Or a smart planetary defence," said Matt, quietly.

Neither of them responded. What was left on Tarsonis to defend?

OOO

"Nova, Raynor asked me to talk to you," spoke Ariel Hanson, gently.

"About what?" quipped the young ghost. "I think they need me on the deck, actually. This whole power loss thing is getting on my nerves."

"Raynor can survive a few minutes," replied the Doctor, confidently. "It'll take some time to land on Tarsonis. Let's not focus on Raynor. What's going on with you?"

"Is this some PTSD?" asked the blonde, flatly. "I'm fine, doc. I've been through plenty of battles, killed plenty of people, and I've come out no worse for wear. Worried I'll lose my sunny deposition, doc?"

Nova grinned convincingly, but Hanson didn't buy it.

"Nova, I saw the tapes," she said, gently. "We can talk about this."

"Nope," said the ghost, briskly. "There's nothing to talk about."

Nova stood up at once, her demeanour now icy and all illusions of pleasantry dropped.

"Is this an intervention Doc?"

"For god's sake, Nova," pleaded Hanson. "Look, I know for a fact that you can't be feeling alright. I mean, you just got your Neural Inhibitors removed. Emotions will roll you over like a tidal wave. You're not accustomed to these things and I'm afraid they might push you to do things, things you wouldn't do with a clear head. Raynor is worried about you. He's worried about what you might do. If what you're experiencing is going to conflict with-"

"I want to kill Mengsk," interrupted Nova. "How's _that_ in conflict with our objective? Seems like one and the same to me."

"Motivations matter Nova," pressed the Doctor. "Reasons matter. Intent matters. And frankly, Raynor isn't comfortable deploying someone who's exhibiting primary signs of vengeful bloodlust."

"Vengeful bloodlust?" demanded Nova, angrily. "You're god damned right I want blood!"

There was a pause.

"You get your own father to disown you as a child, desert you to the harsh jurisdiction of the Ghost Academy. You get your own father to try and drug you with life-shortening drugs simply to amplify psionic power. And you get your own sick bastard father to try and impregnate you with a child simply to secure the throne. You do those things and I guarantee you, you'll want blood all the same," Nova fumed, relentlessly.

"And if you can't do that, then I don't give a shit what you think of me," lashed out the angry Ghost. "My objectives are in line with Raynor's. That's all he should be concerned with."

"What are you planning on doing, Nova?"

"First I'm going to find him," darkly stated the Ghost. "Then I'm going to deprive him of his prized possession. I'll sever his genitals. Then I'll string him upside down to be humiliated by the rest of the Dominion. And then, I'll find some creative way to kill my father in the most painful and long way I can imagine. And after that, I'll move on to my dear half-brother and do the same. Then I'm going to find that other man in the conversation. And I'm going to kill him too. Then I'm going to hunt down everyone who was related to the Spectres. They're going to regret trying to drug me."

Ariel didn't know what to say. "Nova, those are serious threats."

"Threats are for those too weak to follow through," she growled. "Those aren't threats so much as...promises – promises I intend to keep."

"Nova...General Warfield was an advisor to the Spectres, you know this."

Nova paused. "Then I guess the General should get ready," she whispered, darkly.

Slowly, Ariel was rising from her seat. She backed away slowly as Nova continued to stare into empty space. That blonde ghost was scaring the dear Doctor. She wanted to put as much distance between them as she could. Ariel exited the room, gasping for breath. For once she agreed with the Umojans. Ghosts were trouble.

"Doctor Hanson," greeted Sarah, kindly.

"Ah, Sarah," said the Doctor, momentarily frightened. "Bad luck isn't it?"

"Might not be an accident," she said darkly. "Pretty convenient that we run into Electromagnetic Fields just beside the defunct capital of the Confederacy, isn't it?"

"Well, I'll leave the tactics to the soldiers," shrugged the Doctor. "How are you?"

"The tremors are mostly gone...mostly," admitted the redheaded ghost. "I've been hanging around Obi, like you suggested. But I'm more interested in Nova. How is she?"

"Honestly," sighed the Doctor. "She's making me believe that she's even more messed up than you dear."

"Is that so," laughed Kerrigan. "That's no easy feat to accomplish."

"She may look like a hardened war veteran, but she's not," cautioned the experienced Doctor. "Her mind is that of a juvenile child's. You can thank the Neural Inhibitors for that. All the things a normal human would experience, Nova experiences them tenfold due to her emotional retardation. You saw Nova's helmet footage didn't you. That has sent Nova into a rage, one that can't be easily quelled. Sarah, she's made a death list for Christ sake! And by the looks of it, it's going to leave a body trail from Korhal to Tyrador. She's even threatening General Warfield. And after that incident at the mountain pass, rest assured, General Warfield isn't going to take this lightly."

"I'm not sure I blame her," spoke Kerrigan. "I might do something similar if it was me."

"No you wouldn't!" stated Hanson, sharply. "You have power but you have control. Remember what we talked about. Nova's completely out of control. She's threatening crew members, violating safety protocols and she's going to get herself killed. She's so blinded by revenge that she'll die trying to kill the Emperor, his son, and a whole bunch of high ranking Dominion officials. Jesus, this crew is messed up!"

"I'll...I'll go talk to her," responded Kerrigan slowly. "Don't worry doc, I'm not going to get into another fight like last time."

"Wouldn't be surprised if she tried to start one," said the Doctor leaning her head into her hands. "This is why I am a physician. I can't handle this psychology crap. Good luck."

Kerrigan took a deep breath. She sure hoped Nova wasn't hostile.

OOO

The atmosphere was rich with pompousness, prestige and chauvinism. Twelve men sat around a long table. They had not convened in some time. It surprised them when the Emperor called a meeting. Their chairs were made of precious materials. The magnificent table was ridden with ornate gold and decorations that the Fringe Worlds could only dream of. These men were not strangers to each other. In fact they knew each other quite well. They used to convene in similar fashion to this, only decades ago, back when the Confederacy was still around and the Old Families were still dominant. A brief count was made. Of the dozen men, ten were members of the Old Families. One was a retired war hero and the other was the former Superintendant of Brontes IV. They had convened all those years ago as the Old Families. And now, they convened as the Chancellors.

"Welcome, my esteemed Chancellors," greeted Emperor Mengsk, striding into the room, proud and elegant.

Inside, the Chancellors scoffed. They knew it was all an act. Mengsk loathed them for having to need them. He realized the civilian backlash to the Dominion would be smaller if it _seemed_ as if there were still democratic elements within the Dominion. And the Chancellors hated the Emperor for removing their long standing riches and positions. Being a Chancellor was prestigious, yes. But it was also work – a concept alien to those of the Old Family. But none said a word. They would not bite the hand that fed them nor would they give Mengsk reason to dismiss the Chancellery. He loved to spew that hammer quote.

"Emperor Mengsk," greeted the Chancellor of Tyrador. "It is an honour to see you once more."

The Emperor merely nodded and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Emperor Mengsk," spoke the Chancellor of Nephor. "What is on your mind?"

"Ambition," said the Emperor. "Ambition, expansion, frustration, deliberation and action. We have been attacked. The Kel-Morian Combine launched a preliminary fleet against the Dominion. It was repelled easily, but we cannot let this go unanswered. What is to become of the Dominion if we give these fiends free reign to bite at our heels and attack us at their leisure? It is time to end our petty pact with the other factions. The Dominion will no longer tolerate the Combine's futile survival aggression. It is time to annex the rest of the Koprulu Sector."

All the Chancellors were shocked.

"Emperor Mengsk, surely you did not call upon us for this matter alone," spoke the Chancellor of Sara. "External threats are your jurisdiction, not ours."

"Very good Chancellor," grinned Mengsk. "This is not the reason why I summoned the Twelve. The Kel-Morian Combine is not our only problem. The Umojan Protectorate has been taunting us for years. It is time to respond."

"An attack on Umoja would be futile," spoke the Chancellor to Dylar. "They are everywhere at once. They have hundreds maybe thousands of contingency plans and clandestine operatives. Wage war on the Umojans, and our elements may be sabotaged before we even know it."

"True. An attack on Umoja itself would do little. But what if we were to cripple the Umojan Network?" asked Mengsk, eagerly. "What if we cut off the one thing that is keeping the Protectorate on par with us?"

"Interesting," said the Chancellor of Brontes, rubbing his chin. "Without their spy network, they have nothing. But this is but speculation, your highness. Many have tried to crack the Umojan network. Years have been wasted trying to bring it down. It's just not possible."

"It's entirely possible," corrected the Emperor. "But we just did not go far enough. I am about to propose something, an internal operation within the Dominion. It will destroy the Umojan network and assure us that neither the Kel-Morian Combine nor the Umojan Protectorate can stand against us. Will you sanction it?"

There was a murmur with Chancellors both talking to themselves as well as their fellow counterparts. A quick consensus was reached.

"We will. But Emperor Mengsk, how exactly do you plan on accomplishing this?"

The Emperor laughed. "What makes the world go round?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hope enjoyed this latest chapter. Please review!**

**It appears that I seem to have interpreted Valerian's character quite a bit differently than most people. So to set the record straight, I put up a poll on my profile page. Please go there and vote so I can gage the true perception of the Dominion Prince.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: I think releasing two chapters back to back so quickly may have made several readers miss the update. If you are one of those people, please return and read Chapter 31 before returning to this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Thank you for coming," started the Emperor.

He was very comfortable. After a small lapse after the Tarsonis leak, Mengsk had regained his confident demeanour within the public eye. He knew now that he could answer the questions of the ever greedy media, with precision and clarity. Everything had been planned out perfectly. Even now elements were on their way, just waiting for the broadcast to air. It was exciting.

"I have called this press conference to deliver some very...disturbing news," spoke the Emperor gravely. "The Umojan Ambassador to the Dominion has been linked not only to the theft in my private study, but the failed attempt on my life. Ambassador Fars has been revealed to be an Umojan clandestine agent working for the Protectorate to subvert Dominion security. This has been confirmed on many levels across various law enforcement agencies. The ambassador was killed when he engaged in a firefight with Dominion Internal Security Forces. My leniency regarding Umojan aggression against the Dominion has finally reached its end. The Umojan Protectorate has again tried to deceive us. There is no greater insult than installing a diplomatic dignitary to the throne world only to have him be both a conspirator and collaborator in multiple attempts to weaken the throne. Ambassador Fars would raise one hand for a handshake and use the other to stab you in the back. In light of these new events and with careful deliberation on my part, I have decided that this is the final straw. The Protectorate has been waging a covert war with the Dominion and it is our turn to strike back."

Flashes were going off like crazy. Gigantic crowds were forming around the public Holoboards in Augustgrad.

"And so, as of this instance, I am authorizing the seizure of all Umojan financial assets."

The room exploded with reporters jumping up, thrusting microphones as close to the Emperor as possible. This however was futile as Ghosts immediately leapt forward, keeping a barrier between the media and the Emperor. Questions were being shouted out with reckless abandon. Criticisms, comments and anything else was indiscernible through the carnage created by Mengsk's new order.

"Bank accou- bank accounts belonging to those of Umojan nationality are to be frozen, pending further investigation!" spoke Mengsk, loudly over the roar of the media. "All Umojans inhabiting on Dominion worlds are to surrender their finances to the Dominion until a proper assessment of their intent can be made. All Umojans occupying roles of education, transportation, information and finance are to be relieved of their roles and surrender themselves to Dominion Internal Security officers under charges of treason."

The media was going crazy. Mengsk smiled on the inside. The Umojans thought they were so clever. Mengsk longed to see Minister Ducos wake up to find that his dear Protectorate was penniless. In a few short words, Mengsk had accomplished where many had failed. He had taken down the Umojan Network.

"Furthermore," he said loudly. "Furthermore, I am announcing the liquidation of Delan Banks Incorporated as well as the seizure of all illegal Umojan finances carried within said institution. The Koprulu Trust under new _Dominion_ leadership will assume the role of Delan Banks for law-abiding citizens. All other Umojan controlled business and industries are to be nationalized immediately. Full economic embargoes against the Protectorate are to be enforced very seriously. This act was not without very serious contemplation by both myself and the Chancellery. We have concluded that the only way to halt this war of sedition is to cut off Umojan finances and end their reign of terror over the Dominion. This act will secure peace and prosperity for the entire Domnion."

Emperor Mengsk left it at that. Leaving the throne brusquely, he left with a smile on his face. He paid no attention to the frenetic cries of reporters begging for answers. Those two fools at the UNN thought they were actually going to compromise the throne. Little did they know, they had strengthened it and effectively bankrupted the Umojan Protectorate. Those two reporters would be caught eventually. Meanwhile, Mengsk was all too happy to sit back and see Protectorate collapse on itself. Virtually within a day, Mengsk will have levelled the Protectorate into a state of utter economic disarray.

His study was empty, save for his son. He watched as his son paced around the room uncomfortably, and oblivious to his father's presence. Arcturus often wondered if the DNA test had been false. Men of the Mengsk family were a lot of things but indecisive was not one of them. His amusement over his son ended abruptly and he made his presence clear.

"It's done," proclaimed the Emperor.

Valerian nodded and went back to pacing. Finally, he stopped, now ready to break his stagnation and speak his mind.

"Father, I'm confused. How exactly does the seizure of Umojan financial assets bring down their spy network?"

"The Umojan Network costs a fortune to maintain," said Arcturus. "They need a whole hell of a lot of money to fund both their operations and their covers. People are paid to keep secrets, others are paid to move people and get things where they need to get. Without funding, the Network will collapse. Identities will be revealed. And the spies will be revealed."

"Won't this prompt retaliation from the Protectorate?" asked the prince, meekly.

The Emperor gave a hearty laugh. "What can they do? If we control the money, we control the Protectorate. It's as simple as that. I tell you, son, these Umojans, they're like a disease. After our economic embargo did they be good citizens and promote internal trade? No. No, they crept into Dominion space, establishing themselves as financial leaders and business CEOs. They were milking us dry of any profit. And all the profits they earned went straight back to the Protectorate, straight back to the Network. But they were cunning, you see? They knew all the money was in the Dominion. So what did they do? They invested. They moved their banks, their accounts, their money. All of it went into Dominion banks just waiting to be seized. Well I wonder what the Protectorate will do now that all his assets have magically disappeared? This is the end of the Umojan Network, trust me son. You're witnessing the final days of the Protectorate."

Valerian went back to his pacing. His arm jerked about from time to time and his mind was twisting with contemplations of a former life.

"Is something troubling you?" asked the sly Emperor. "I'd have thought you'd be relieved. This whole situation with Fars really dragged on for far too long. Well, it's finally over. The last link is cut. This should be good news to you in particular."

"No...yes I am grateful, father," stammered the young prince. "But what is to be made of the Umojans carrying vital positions, like the director of the Koprulu Trust?" asked the heir apparent, still quietly.

"Just a safeguard. If the Protectorate somehow does find means to fund themselves, they will find that their elements have been imprisoned. I know that Umojans working within transportation and finance were helping the Protectorate. We'll round them up, ship them off to New Folsom, and be done with them."

Valerian fidgeted once again. "N-New Folsom's prisoner quota is full."

The Emperor glanced back at his son, still so innocent. He smiled in a fashion befitting of the devil himself.

"They're not to be..._permanent_ prisoners."

OOO

"So."

"So," repeated the blonde.

The conversation had started rather lamely, not a good indicator of what was to come. Kerrigan shifted in her seat. The blonde ghost looked completely absorbed in her own thoughts. If the conversation was to move out of the mundane, she'd have to make the first step.

"Don't even think about probing my brain," said Nova at once. "You enter my mind, and you won't come out."

"Relax Nova," soothed a concerned ghost.

"You here because of that bitch doctor?" asked Nova, viciously. "Stupid idiot. I swear she's not even certified. Who knows what sort of black magic shit they do on Agria."

"Did."

"What?"

"What sort of black magic shit they _did_ on Agria," corrected Kerrigan.

"Oh...right...whatever. My point being, she's an idiot, plain and simple. She patches bullet wounds for Christ sake. That only makes her slightly more useful than a medic."

Kerrigan found herself having to nod simply to appease Nova's aggression. She had a feeling that she might be enabling the young temperamental ghost.

"You know, Sarah, we ghosts...we ghosts got to stick together, you see?" whispered Nova, with a hint of subterfuge. "Only us two...only us two know what it's like. Only us two know true fear, true horrors. We got to look out for one another. They all got plans of their own. Horner's got a plan, locked up behind that stupid stoic visage of his. That pig Warfield has a plan. And Raynor? Even Raynor has an agenda he's not telling us. When it comes down to it, we stick together Sarah."

Kerrigan was beginning to understand Ariel's worry.

"Why would you say that?" asked Kerrigan, her voice revealing nothing.

"What?"

"Why did you just say all that?"

"B-because it's true!"

"No, it's because you're so obsessed with this revenge that it's warping how you see the world!" exclaimed Kerrigan. "Nova, you're becoming paranoid."

Nova fumed so hard that her face began attracting colour.

"Look Nova, Mengsk is a real monster-"

"What the hell do you know?" she angrily spat. In her rage, the young ghost stood up and threw her chair aside with enough force that'd make Tychus Findlay proud.

"He abandoned me, left me for dead, allowed me to become the thing that killed millions of people and then tried to finish me off with his son," responded Kerrigan coolly.

"He impregnated me!" screamed Nova, furiously.

"No, he wanted to impregnate you!" yelled Kerrigan, standing up as well. "Nova, you're acting on intent, on things that didn't happen."

"So you're saying I should just forget about this?" asked Nova. Her psionic power was becoming denser and denser.

"No, I saying you shouldn't give him the opportunity to follow through on what he said!" sighed the frustrated redhead. "How do you think this is all going to turn out? Hmm? You think you're just going to waltz on it to Augustgrad, put a bullet into Mengsk, then his son, and a few more Dominion officials?"

"I'm not stupid," spat Nova.

"That's exactly what you are!" shouted Sarah, her tone now pleading. "This might just be the quintessential moment that may come to define everything about you. Revenge is one thing simply put. It's control. You faced that type of power before. You had very thorough Neural Inhibitors. You were told what to do, what to feel, what you could remember, what you were forced to forget."

"Shut up! I'm the one in control!" yelled Nova. "I've chosen this!"

The psionic power was too dense. It took the physical form of an inertia blast, one so strong that Kerrigan didn't have time to react. Lifting her arms to defend herself, the blast knocked her against the opposite wall, taking the wind out of the older ghost. Gripping her side tenderly, she slowly got up. The regret was impeccably marked on the blonde's face.

"You call that in control?" asked Kerrigan. "I'm on your side Nova! You're going down a path that will lead you straight back to where you were. You're going to be a slave again! Do you want that? Do you want to be subservient to an overriding power that represents none of your wishes yet all of your malice? I know this! I was a servant to the zerg and then a servant to the stims. Remember who you're talking too. I'm an expert on being subdued. And I'm not going to stand for it any longer. Neither should you!"

Nova's voice was unsteady. "All I want...all I want is Mengsk dead."

"No its not," sighed Sarah, understandingly. "What you want is your own perverted sense of justice wherein the only goal is to rid yourself of this feeling of hatred."

"So what?" cried Nova, her eyes now moistened. "Is that wrong of me? I feel...tainted, Sarah! I feel like a...like a kid who's been playing in the mud too long. And when I try to wash, it never goes away. It never goes away! It sticks with me like a magnet. It's like a leech draining me of everything. I'm unclean Kerrigan! It's like I'm marked with something...something impure and there's only one way I can get rid of it."

"You think getting rid of Mengsk gets rid of that sickening feeling," stated Kerrigan. "But what if it only amplifies it? What if you actually accomplish it? What if you actually kill Mengsk? What then? By then, you'll be so filled with hatred that you'll find anything to vent it on. And then you'll do what you've been doing right now. You'll create enemies that don't exist because your very existence is now defined upon that hatred. You know what happens to avengers who've completed their vendetta? They burn out. They don't go elegantly like a fine wine or a crisp tree walking into autumn's grasp. They go violently and they go miserably."

Nova was weeping. And it wasn't simply out of sorrow. She cried out of confusion over a rudimentary brain that wasn't used to contemplating all these hurtful emotions now bountiful in her mind. And she wasn't trying to hide it. Kerrigan's heart went out to the girl she saw so much of herself in. She was encountering the exact same questions and dilemmas that Kerrigan herself had faced. She didn't want Nova to fall victim to the same malicious powers that had victimized Sarah.

"W-what do I do?" asked Nova, between the sobbing. "Tell me what to do."

"That's the whole point, Nova," sighed Sarah. "I can't tell you."

Nova dipped her head down once more. Her whole life, now flashing before her eyes. All the pain and suffering was too much to bear. She realized now the warning that Doctor Hanson had given her right before her Neural Implants were removed. The Doctor had warned her that it was almost as painful to feel as it was not to feel. Nova definitely agreed right now. So much was going on. Emotions she could barely name, circled her mind like vultures, picking apart each scenario before her eyes until all that was left of it was a mutilated carcass of a former truth. She was obedient to it. And she was trapped by it. She felt dizzy, even sick.

"Once you go down a path of no control, there's no easy way of coming back. And even if you find a way, you're never the same. Trust me, I know."

She looked up and found Kerrigan at the doorway, hand on the handle.

Kerrigan looked at her sympathetically. "All I'm going to say is this. There are only two fundamental ways to live your life. You can serve or you can rule. And whichever you choose, be prepared to live with the consequences."

Kerrigan exited the room, wondering how her life would have been different were she given the choice. How would she be if she'd been allowed to refuse to serve the Queen of Blades? What would she be if she had chosen to not serve the stimpacks? These were useless hypotheticals with tragically optimistic endings. But they at least gave her hope. Maybe Nova would redeem herself where Kerrigan could not. The dogtags of that mysterious soldier on Aiur, still rested against Kerrigan's chest. And it reminded her that if he could refuse to serve, so could Nova.

Doctor Hanson watched bewildered as Kerrigan left the room leaving Nova changed, albeit uncertainly.

"Why do I even try?"

OOO

He watched what no leader should ever have to watch. Minister Ducos watched as his great Protectorate was crumbling. He spent a good hour verifying what happening, as well as denying on many occasions. The next hour he was cursing the Dominion, Mengsk and himself. Jorgensen warned Ducos of many things. This was not one of them. The new Minister of the Umojan Protectorate was not prepared for this, not in the slightest. They were broke in the simplest of terms. Ducos didn't believe Mengsk's temerity until his nation had suffered a full round of it. The Network was coming down. And the Minister didn't know what to do. This was Jorgensen's fault. He should have known that what he had done all those years ago, would come back to bite the Protectorate in the ass. And now he left Ducos to clean up the mess.

Ducos couldn't believe that Mengsk had it in him to do this. The Umojan Treasury was small given that most of their investments went into the Dominion. Their reserves were nearly non-existent and their coffers were being emptied as fast as humanly possible. The Protectorate was running on fumes.

"Raynor," he finally whispered. "Do we know where he is?"

His assistant nodded. "For now. In a couple of hours, the Network's bound to go down, sir. And then we'll be just as blind as anyone else."

The Minister nodded, tragically accepting their predicament. "Good enough. I'm...I need to meet with him."

"Minister!" said the assistant, alarmed. "He's currently on Tarsonis of all places. You know better than to go there. You know what's going on down there. Those electromagnetic fields are enough to deter most from venturing there. And that's still preferable to what rests down there planet side."

"The Protectorate is falling apart!" exploded the Minister. "If we don't do something, the Protectorate's gone. You hear me? Everything we've worked for is going down the drain and its going down fast. The only way out of this is to act! Send word threw our channels in the Tarsonis system...if we have any left."

"Sir, may I remind you that the last time that the Protectorate did this, it didn't work out so well for us."

"Yeah? Well let's hope this Raynor is more honourable than Arcturus Mengsk was."

As the leader of the Umojan state made preparations to leave Umoja, across the wide sea of space, another leader was plotting similar action.

Rector Sieyes swallowed hard. He had just an entire Kel-Morian fleet destroyed before they even reached firing distance of any major Korhal planet. He couldn't understand how the Dominion had amassed such a large fighting force. It seemed that during the interbellum of the Guild Wars, the difference between military might had only gotten exponentially wider. Rector Sieyes closed his eyes, cursing loudly. He had to face the crushing fact that the Kel-Morian Combine could no longer compete with the bastion of Mengsk. They couldn't even protect their own mining colonies!

The leader of the Kel-Morian Combine often thought of releasing the footage of what the soldier had seen on Orunu Sigma. Alas, he concluded that it would be tripe at best. Mengsk would immediately designate it as a subversive fallacy trying to attack the throne. That, and since the attack, all communication with the Dominion had been severed. They also lacked the necessary sector wide broadcasting capabilities. And these days, no one from the UNN seemed to be a Kel-Morian sympathizer. He had heard some rumours of the Protectorate running into significant financial problems but nothing was concrete. The Rector could only focus on the shattered remains of his Fleet now floating about through the cold emptiness of space.

Immediately after the attack, the Rector had pulled back the rest of the ships en route to Korhal. They had been stationed around key worlds belonging to the Combine. Moria in particular was nearly impossible to see with all the ships protecting it. It was a damn fortress. But even a fortified Moria couldn't withstand the entire Kel-Morian military was on edge as they were anticipating a counter-attack from the Dominion at any second. A declaration of war was all but certain. Sieyes immediately ordered a scale back on their mining operations on Chau Sara. Technically, they weren't supposed to be there to begin with. And the Rector feared antagonizing the Emperor further.

They were on their last leg. Even the proud leader of the Combine knew that his state could not survive a full attack by the Dominion Armada. They needed help and as proud as the Rector was, he was desperate enough to admit it. Sieyes was prepared to swallow his pride.

His voice was shaky with uncertainty. "Retrace the hack with Raynor. Get his coordinates."

OOO

The air was filled with dust. It blew around Raynor as a reminder of what had happened here. He set foot on the earth of Tarsonis and gazed at the scene before him. This place brought back some bad memories. This was where he realized that Mengsk was a tyrant. This was where he sent 19 marines to their deaths while trying to rob the train. This was the place where he lost Kerrigan. This planet was old. He could smell it in the air. Hundreds of now barren acres of earth stood as insults in the face of this planet of historic importance. This planet's once flourishing order was older than both the Confederacy and the Dominion. And like the Confederacy, it now laid in ruins. One could only hope that the Dominion would share their fate soon.

Jim could see the outline of New Gettysburg – what was left of it anyway. It didn't look like much. He sighed heavily. Rory Swann was busy jostling about every ship, trying to restart their engines with parts that were brought in by General Warfield after having done a sweep of the now abandoned train route. Stetmann was off with a research party, currently excavating a fossilised defiler. Raynor was none to please from removing the zerg minion from its rightful position. And now, some of his troops were reporting some strange occurrences.

A small hand snaked its way in between his and held tightly. Raynor held a small smile. He gazed at her, seeing her take in her surroundings with deep eyes. Even if Raynor were a psychic, he imagined he'd have a hard time finding out what Kerrigan was thinking at that moment. She reached out to Raynor for support. As stoic and fierce as she was, there was still a Pavlovian response embedded in her human prerogative.

"Engines fixed?" she asked casually.

"Soon. How's Nova?"

"Shaken," admitted the ghost. "I can't tell what she's going to do. Her thoughts are all jumbled up and crisscrossed in ways I can't even begin to comprehend."

The breeze caught Kerrigan's hair. The bright red hair flew in the wind as the dying rays of the Tarsonis sun blessed the earth before descending beyond sight. Her eyes were filled with thought and her chest heaved heavily as she took in the dusty atmosphere of a long forgotten past. Men hustled by quickly, crates of metal and steel were busily hauled but Raynor saw only her. Clad in armour of silver, now bathed in light as the golden rays fell across her shoulders, Kerrigan smiled warmly. Her hair danced like wild flames, touching the air and the silver and the gold, leaving it a better place for having been there. Raynor couldn't imagine a more perfect moment. Alas, it was not a perfect world – not by a long shot. And when the sun set, it would set with a sickening darkness. They would have to prepare for that, not gaily prance around under the pretence of the everlasting sun.

"When this is all over," started Raynor, suddenly overcome with passion.

"Stop," spoke Kerrigan, instantly. "Don't say it. We can't look beyond the next few battles. I can't afford to live in my past and my line of work certainly suggests not to look to the future."

Raynor understood gravely. They were tragic figures trapped in a play spanning thousands of years of social patterns and predisposed unfortunates. There would be no light to look forward to, not until they were already bathed in it. There would be no hope to be mercilessly crushed.

"Yesterday, I spent my youth as a cold killer for a corrupt government," said Kerrigan, her hair flailing more wildly than ever. "Yesterday I spent my time as the puppet for an ambitious tyrant. And yesterday I watched myself spread fear on an entire sector. Tomorrow I might be dead. Tomorrow something unpredictable might happen. We can't afford to live in any period but the present, Jim. Anything else would be a disservice to the few moments of true tranquility that we pass by for reminiscence or foresight. Be happy we're here right now. I just saw a Tarsonis sunset. That's worth more than the time I'd have spent thinking back or looking forward."

The Chief engineer was roaring orders at his subordinates. Loyal SCVS bustled past the pair. Their hands clung on by mere finger tips. But that was enough for them.

"You got a mission?" questioned Kerrigan, knowingly.

"What? I haven't even said anything to you yet."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

"Oh yeah, you're a telepath," laughed Raynor, bemused. "There have been disturbances on outskirts of our little set up. Men are reporting movement on the perimeter. I don't know what it is, but I reckon we should find out. Normally I'd send another ghost, but we're running low. Nova's out of commission and most of the regiment I sent to sympathetic planets to rally them to our cause. A ghost can move a hell of a lot quieter through the Sector than a warship can. The disturbances are happening on the outskirts of New Gettysburg."

"I'll go," Kerrigan confirmed. "I'll stretch my legs, take in the history, and find out what's scaring your boys shitless."

"Come back safe...and clean," ordered the commander.

"If you will, I will," said Sarah, grinning before her smile vanished with the rest of her body. "Come on Obi."

Raynor was stuck in a daze, seeing her red hair vanish in a split second. It reminded him of the beauty of life and how fragile it truly was. It was gain and loss, there and not there. And above all else, it reaffirmed how much Sarah Kerrigan truly meant to him.

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**Author's Note: Thank you all for the title and summary suggestions. I am still looking for more. Also, I am grateful that a handful of people voted on the Valerian poll. This will give me a hint on how to handle his character in the future. I want to encourage everyone to re-watch the Starcraft II Launch Trailer. It's all kinds of awesome wrapped in a short trailer. So as always, please let me know what you thought of this chapter either through a review or a PM. Thanks!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: There's a reason I asked you guys to re-watch the Starcraft II trailer...**

* * *

Kerrigan moved silently through the infinite rubble with a silence only befitting of a ghost. Her cloaking gave her near invisibility. The only people who'd be able to detect her were the ones who were truly looking. She was edging into the city. Old tanks and battered war machines laid ruined. Even now, buildings creaked uncomfortably, as if their decrepit structures were just about to give way. Kerrigan took a deep breath, looking around. There was nothing. She pressed forward again, every step taken with precision and caution. She was certain that there were no more zerg here, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

It was truly eerie as Kerrigan walked through New Gettysburg, the former capital of the Confederacy. In its prime, it was the center of the Sector. It was the capital of trade, business and intellect. Back then, the streets bustled with thousands. Now there wasn't a soul. This was Mengsk's doing. He had wiped out the pinnacle city of the Terran race all to secure his own position of dominance within the Koprulu Sector. They had all descended from criminals and invalids. Gazing at the ruins of New Gettysburg, Kerrigan found this quite obvious. The sky brazen with fading light, showered dying rays over the ruined city as the ghost continued her trek.

She passed the old UNN headquarters in New Gettysburg's downtown. She was getting close to the financial sector. That would be as good a place as any to start her sweep. Bullet holes marked the buildings with a historic brutality and still, there were various men, still unclaimed by the earth. The stench filled Kerrigan's lungs and she backed away appropriately. Kerrigan kept in mind that this was nothing compared to the destruction of the rest of the planet. At the very least, New Gettysburg had been spared of the Protoss' sterilization. The charred earth beyond the realm of the city, gave testament to New Gettysburg good fortune. She walked down a street, carefully avoiding anything potentially hazardous.

Sarah Kerrigan found herself frozen in place, this time not out of fear but curiosity. In front of her was a small clearing. The dust swirled around like tiny tempests nipping at her ankles. Large pebbles were scattered in her path. They were broken pieces of miserable concrete barrier, attempting to stand strong against the test of time, but ultimately failing as the thick layer of infinite dust enveloped it whole. Something told Kerrigan that the concrete barrier had warded off much more powerful things than time. Behind her, Obi buzzed annoyingly. The observer was keen on archiving the rest of the city but was compelled to stay with the ghost. As begrudgingly as a robotic scout could muster, it vigilantly watched the ghost's back.

Kerrigan knelt down and ran her hand across the jagged surface of the small wall of concrete. Her fingertips gathered dust which quickly was liberated into the air with the blowing winds. She continued her trek until her hands dipped into a vicious crevice in the barrier. It was distinct and deep. She reached in and pulled out an arrowhead shaped item. It was a Hydralisk spine. Beside it, the concrete barrier stopped as a massive whole had been torn into its side. She stood up, the scene becoming clearer to her. She walked around the barrier carefully. At one point, the ground beneath her felt loose.

Pausing initially, she tapped it once with her foot. It felt brittle as if it didn't belong. She gently kicked up dust at her feet, carefully sweeping away layers of dirt and grime from her position. Finally, her foot broke through the soot and a faded but visible green laid in its wake. She continued to sweep away the dirt, already knowing what laid beneath her. She took a step back after the earth had been cleared. She gazed at the earth, now metal, ripped and bullet ridden. It read:

**Welcome to**

**New Gettysburg**

Old memories came to her slowly. She stayed perfectly still amidst the blowing dust. Nostalgia was as present as the carnage. It swept over Sarah like the incoming waves of dirt. Its rough texture against her skin made what she was experiencing all too real. It was as if she was reliving the very scene before her eyes. She had been here once before. And many more times in her dreams.

Broken chatter blared against her ear. The word OVERRUN was the preferred term over the radio. Years of gruelling discipline were all but abandoned as the remainder of her small company was being picked apart little by little as hordes of monsters crashed again and again into their ranks.

"I can't raise the commander!" cried the communications officer.

Kerrigan cursed loudly. Her men were in no shape for this. Their battle with the Protoss was fierce and tiresome, as were all battles with the Protoss. Those who hadn't died were exhausted, injured or both. Plenty had fled, of that Sarah was sure of. One could always count on death to expose cowardice but also heroics. And yet looking around her, Sarah did not see the latter.

Rallying the last of her troops to the Barracks, they hauled up there, hoping that it would prove a stronghold. There, they spent hundreds of rounds on zerg approaching from all directions. Suits of armour battered from psionic blades, now carried the scars of zergling claws and hydralisk spines. Kerrigan did a quick head count while reloading. She counted 12 fighters in total, with 1 on the verge of death and another unable to move. Another cry of monstrous beasts forced Kerrigan to re-shoulder her weapon and squeeze the trigger with vigour and fear. These trained commandos were not picking their targets so much as blindly firing into a plethora of targets knowing that its superfluity would guarantee no shot was wasted.

"Mutas incoming!" roared a soldier.

Positioned at the main entrance, the soldier took a knee, firing upwards while his suit compensated for the recoil. The two mutalisks were taken down by his expert fire but not before launching a dreaded glaive worm. It struck the soldier in the visor, flinging him off his feet, back into the building. And it bounced. Its trajectory was undeniably heading towards Kerrigan. She felt time slow as she watched her imminent death approach.

In an almost surreal speed, the wounded soldier launched himself in front of her, hoping that his final actions would protect his CO. Kerrigan gasped painfully as the Glaive Worm viciously borrowed into the soldier's back. It threw the pair of them on the ground. She wheezed for air as the heavy combat suit was beginning to crush her small frame and deprive her lungs of needed oxygen. With huge effort, she managed to push the suit off her body, not wanting to think about the fate of the man inside. Taking a moment to catch her breath, the zerg weren't even going to allow that. The floor beneath them exploded in several places within a vertical line. Thankfully, it left everyone alive, but now fearful for the integrity of their building.

"Jesus, it's a Lurker!" cried another soldier, throwing down his weapon. "We can't do it! We can't! We're all gonna die! I can't take this anymore!"

"Pick up your weapon private!" screamed the ghost. "I don't know what's going to happen but none of us here is dying with bullets still in our guns. Now fire damn it! I want cover fire now! I'm going to make a break for the Command Center. If I can get there, I can use the ComSat station to Scanner Sweep the building and find the Lurker. All of you get to the second floor where it can't reach you. Haul up there, and wait for me!"

Before protest erupted from the soldiers, she made her move. Dashing through the entrance, she took off in a frenzied scurry as all kinds of attacks hit the ground next to her allowing death to reach an inch of her before grudgingly retreating and waiting for the next opportunity. She put the destroyed remains of a Goliath in between her and a pursuing Hydralisk. Thank god they moved as slow as hell. Her goggles bounced lightly on her head as she kept her head down, running towards the command center. A shadow flashed on the ground but Kerrigan didn't have time to look up. She ran.

Her endurance paid off as she latched on to the command center's door frame desperately. Quickly pulling herself inside, she navigated through steel corridors previously jostling with people and noise. Now there wasn't a soul save for her. She reached the ComSat, immediately finding the Sweeper Scan controls. Plugging in appropriate coordinates, she launched the scan, only to pale. The screen in front of her lit up and showed the Barracks, still standing but taking a heavy beating. It wouldn't stay that way for long.

In horror, Kerrigan watched as a dozen Infested Terrans had been pulled to the battle, now swaying their mutilated arms like mindless drones. They marched towards the Barracks, their minds already dead and gone. The marines inside were busy peppering the Barracks floor, now trying to address the visible Lurker threat. Their imminent destruction was coming from the outside. She yelled, screamed and cried out in the radio, but it was dead. Her eyes widened as the first Infested Terran dispelled its explosive potential into the foundations of the Barracks. A groan would have been heard if the explosion had been any less quiet. It was followed by another and then another. Explosion after explosion rocked the Barracks until multiple fires had caught and the structure's integrity failed. It began collapsing on itself. Emergency measures had been enabled. Small satellite explosions began erupting from the Barracks to ensure it would be secured from the zerg.

Kerrigan pounded her fist into the screen, angrily. It was all over. She closed her eyes firmly, trying to think of Jim. He was a decent man, perhaps one of the few left in the Sector. She regretted coming. She should have listened to him and told Arcturus to go to hell. What was she thinking? What was Arcturus thinking? And most importantly, what was Raynor thinking? Opening her eyes with her future now laid before her, she breathed steadily. If she was to die, she would do so with all ammo spent from her weapon in a manner rivalling that of the macabre zerg.

She then spotted a small round object. It was smaller than a grape, yet infinitely more importance than anything on her person. Slowly, she removed her broken ear piece, replacing it with the one she found on the desk. It appeared to be clean. All other lines to command were down. Communications had been cut. Even the control tower went down after a scourge a guardian attack. Maybe she could reach Arcturus. She'd hoped that he was already aware and sending a search and rescue. They wouldn't abandon her.

Her index finger was raised to her ear, attempting to hail someone. She stopped, confusingly looking around at her surroundings. It felt...off. Something was weird. It happened so suddenly, yet Kerrigan didn't know exactly what it was. It felt very...damp. The walls started moving now. The motions were small, but they were there. And they were moving. The bewildered ghost had reality dawn upon her. She had never before experienced it, but she was almost certain what was happening now.

The command center was being infested.

Immediately, she bolted for the exit. The shadow she had seen earlier must have been that of a Queen. It followed her to the Command Center. Kerrigan didn't know what happened to those within a structure after infestation but she was keen on finding out. She wasn't about to get infested. The oxygen seemed lacking and the air was thick around her. Kerrigan felt as if this was the essence of the zerg. And she was desperate to be rid of it. Exploding through an alternate entry, she breathed deeply. Her nostrils filled with smoke and dust and yet it was the scent of euphoria compared to the Command Center.

She picked herself back up. She ran once more, stepping over some downtrodden zerg fiends that were now unidentifiable. It wasn't long now. She had to find a place to hole up in, but now wasn't the time to be picky. Sarah heard the scurrying of the sharp claws of zerglings. Cloaking instantly, she desperately looked for a place to rest. She ran past the fallen sign of welcome to New Gettysburg. Kerrigan surrendered and took shelter behind a broken cement barrier. De-cloaking, she put her index finger to her ear.

"This is Kerrigan. We've neutralized the Protoss but there's a wave of zerg advancing on this position. We need immediate evac."

There was silence. Kerrigan shook her head with frustration. She was sure that the message was being broadcasted. Someone must have been receiving it. The silence was killing her more than the threat of the zerg right now. She didn't have the time to rebroadcast the message. Zerglings squealed at her back. They must have picked up her trail.

She raised her head from cover, professionally aiming her rifle and letting lose a liberal volley of metal into the three pursuing zerglings. Bullet ridden, one continued as close as striking distance before it was promptly put down by Kerrigan. She couldn't even collect her breath. A wall crumbled revealing a deadly Hydralisk behind it. Sarah did not panic but did as she was instructed to do with years of training. She kept clean of the Hydralisk's volleys and responded with her own as she dashed behind the barrier. Somehow, the Hydralisk's muscular form propelled its slithering body to overtake Kerrigan's speed. It launched its body through the concrete barrier, glaring at her with malicious intent. With only nanoseconds of hesitation, Kerrigan put three rounds into its head, attempting to fire more for added effect.

The sickening click of her rifle now vacant of bullets was a sound Kerrigan would never forget. Her heart leaped as she realized her defenceless nature.

_"Arcturus' rescue party better hurry up!" _she thought.

Kerrigan had no idea when another zerg group would show up. She needed to get off the planet fast.

"Uh, boys...how about that evac?"

Instinctively, Sarah felt as if the silence she was hearing was only half of the conversation. Regardless, she was getting fed up. Tired and in a deadly situation, she needed rescue now.

"Commander?"

"Jim?"

"What the hell is going on up there?"

At the recognizable cry of the zerg, Kerrigan whipped around, for the first time scared. Where was the rescue party? She spun around several times, glancing edgily. The momentarily lapse of carnage only meant another ominous wave approaching fast. Her mind was battered with combat. She needed to escape from it. Her hand rose from gripping her rifle to her set of goggles. Her hand trembled slightly. She feared what they would reveal.

They were donned upon her face and revealed dozens of zerg monsters approaching Kerrigan's position faster than she could outmanoeuvre. Her whole body sank. Shoulders laxed with tragic helplessness and the small sigh that escaped her lips were ones of desperation masked with the professional quality of an assassin. But not even an assassin could stand before the swarm with steadfast courage. Kerrigan was finished. Both the goggles and rifle slipped from Kerrigan's body. Their clattering on the ground was muffled to Kerrigan. She watched, slowly as her enemies began to make their way towards her. She tilted her head up, seeing Mutalisks swarming over her head, but also, the small dot that would be the Hyperion leaving the orbit of Tarsonis.

There was no rescue party. Sarah Kerrigan had been abandoned.

Standing in that exact spot, nearly five years ago, Kerrigan stood still. The zerg had vanished and she was left with merely the same dilapidated buildings she had seen all those years ago. Her heartbeat was steady. She was calm. Any lesser human would be disturbed. Kerrigan was anything but a lesser human. She stood in the place of tragedy. And her demeanour suggested otherwise. She was at ease.

Sarah began to talk slowly. "The longer we dwell on our misfortunes..."

"The greater is their power to harm us," finished another voice.

Kerrigan turned slowly, seeing the man she cherished, in front of her. She smiled sadly yet gratefully. If there was one man in this universe that understood her, it was Jim Raynor.

"You didn't think I'd let you wander out here by your lonesome did you?" Raynor spoke.

Kerrigan nodded absentmindedly. She looked back at the fallen sign of New Gettysburg.

"Thank you Jim," she said, quietly. "I needed this."

The commander nodded his head understandingly. "I know."

They looked at each other. That deep stare conveyed more than any conversation would attempt to match. Sarah hadn't the need to explain a thing. She wondered who the real psychic between the two of them was. Raynor knew her perfectly. They were so intricately connected in a fashion Kerrigan couldn't understand nor did she need to. The gaze of the man before her told Sarah that she was in good company...the best.

He wrapped his arm around Sarah's shoulder which she accepted gratefully. She closed her eyes, leaning her head on Raynor's larger arms. They walked calmly and silently to his Vulture bike. She could now hear the departing engines of a far off Dropship. She must have been out of it if she had missed that during her nostalgia. Obi must have had a fit. Sneaking a glance at her trusted companion, it did not seem too happy with Kerrigan's lack of vigilance, but it followed the pair, loyally looking for signs of danger.

The commander and the ghost walked down the empty streets of Tarsonis. They walked down the streets of the planet they had once helped destroy. And perhaps it spoke volumes to their strange relationship, but they felt right. Amidst the war torn city in the dusty dead planet, the pair held onto a lasting feeling of content. A commander and a ghost. A recovering alcoholic and a recovering drug addict. They were a strange pair indeed.

The Vulture was compact, but the pair had no problem squeezing in. Raynor felt slightly rejuvenated outside his personal armour. The pair of them drove down the streets, Kerrigan's head resting upon his with a peace unbefitting of Tarsonis. It appeared as if Sarah would have some company with her search.

They scoured New Gettysburg. Raynor was leaned up against his bike, staring off absentmindedly into the distance. The Observer had detected something and Kerrigan had gone off to investigate it. The silence of being alone was much louder than that in Kerrigan's company. Fortunately, a familiar voice interrupted this.

"Sir, you know I don't like you going out into the field," sighed Horner through the radio.

"Thanks mom," responded the commander, dryly. "Anything to report or are you just calling me to nag?"

"Well, I wanted to discuss this with you face to face, but seeing as how you just ran off with Kerrigan, I suppose this will have to do. We have to address our logistic problem."

Raynor groaned. Matt however, was determined and pressed on.

"With a payroll of mercenaries, Dominion fleet and our own Raider's, this has become a bigger problem than you think," he berated. "Maintaining a battle group of this size is no easy feat. And if we're serious about putting the hurt on the Dominion, we're going to venture into the Core Systems. You understand that right? We're talking about fully colonized and industrialized planets. We can't just go down there, plunder a couple minerals, steal a little gas and get out of there. We're going to have to start paying for our resources with credits we don't even have."

Raynor was only half listening. Kerrigan had returned. She looked slightly on edge, as did Obi, whose invisible form left small unnatural waves in its wake.

"I swear I saw something," said Kerrigan. "Then it just vanished. I tried to pursue but it was gone. Obi saw it too."

A crack filled the air. Instinctively, both Kerrigan and Raynor dropped to the floor, taking cover behind the Vulture. A soar was heard and a small projectile smashed into Obi's small frame. The trusty observer sparked lively before its power faded and it dropped to the ground. Raynor checked his radio and then his Vulture. They were fried. Someone had just launched an Electromagnetic Pulse Round at them. And it worked. Their detection was gone and their transportation was shot. A voice echoed through the streets.

"Lay down your weapons. You have been surrounded. We have a dozen sharpshooters ready to fire. Move a finger and you're dead."

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**Author's Note: Sorry guys, but I love cliff-hangers. Feel free to take a wild gander at what might await Kerrigan and Raynor in the next chapter. Hopefully, it will be a little bit of a shock to you. On another topic, I've created a thread at** **the SC2 Story forums at under the title: New Starcraft II Story which is about this story. It's a more interactive way to discuss Next Steps and it makes it easier for me to respond to readers. Please continue to review at but if you want responses, your best bet would be to post questions in the thread listed above. Thanks guys.**


	34. Chapter 34

The apartment was bathed in darkness. It appears nobody had been here for a long time. Two figures edged cautiously into the room. The apparent seclusion did not alleviate the vigilance of the circumspect individual as he motioned for his companion to stay at the door, close to the exit. Like a surgeon, the individual ran his hands expertly across nearly every surface of the apartment. The dust clung to his callous fingers, leaving a stark trail of two parallel lines of expensive wood in its wake. He was at it for nearly ten minutes. Every nook and cranny, every electronic, every dark place, every corner was searched. During said time, the individual at the door stood arms crossed and irritated towards the paranoia of the situation.

"Okay," Donny breathed at last. "I think it's clean."

"Oh really, thank god!" snapped Lockwell in a glory of sarcasm. "And here I thought you'd be at it all night!"

"This is serious," warned Donny, as prudent as ever. "The last time I neglected to search my place, the Dominion had found me and confiscated my manifesto copy within minutes."

"Fine," sighed Lockwell. "Sorry, I'm exhausted, hungry, and still in shock about being one of the two most wanted people on the planet. Please tell me this was worth it."

"It was worth it," he affirmed.

He moved to a bookshelf, picking a precise spot and subsequently removing books from the shelf. The loud thuds of the heavy books against the wooden floor, were enough to make Kate jump, even if expected. The pair had spent the last day or so in general silence. At her angle, Kate couldn't see exactly what Donny was doing. She craned her neck to no avail. Donny stopped abruptly and left the bookshelf. He now began searching in the kitchen, taking drawers out of their places. After a minute, he stopped this as well.

Kate Lockwell was now crestfallen. Donny was wrong. The Dominion had gotten to it before they did.

But Donny was not finished. He promptly marched to the bed room. Running his hands across the headboard, placing a firm finger on the center, the former lead anchor for the UNN broke out into a rare smile. He procured something which had suddenly appeared in a tiny crack of the headboard. With both hands, as delicately as possible, he carried the tiny disk back to Lockwell, placing it with infinite care onto the counter. Kate realized how important this was. It was the lifeblood of the Arcturus Mengsk. It was the most precious thing in the Sector.

"I told you it was worth it," whispered Donny, in awe of its presence once again. "A hidden 6 digit number randomizer in the bookshelf, and then a hidden keypad in the kitchen cupboard using the 6 digits from the hidden randomizer in the shelf and 6 digits of my own. And then a hidden compartment in the bed that will procure the manifesto after genuine authentication has been met."

Kate whistled, attempting to lighten this deadpan mood. "You certainly didn't take any chances."

"With the Dominion, you can't," said Donny, eyes not leaving the small disk. "Fars got me all this. It's a shame he's gone. But this," Donny motioned to the disk. "This will have made it all worth it."

The reporter surveyed the integral disk with unmitigated curiosity. "So this is the manifesto. This is Mengsk's hidden secret."

"Secrets," corrected Donny. "Let's take a look at a couple."

Again, with delicacy, Donny placed the disk into his holoboard. The screen lit up at once. "Let's go to...ah, the deposed Kel-Morian ambassadors. Let's bring up the logs."

_Log Entry 447_

_The Kel-Morian Ambassadors are stepping past their authority. They are challenging both myself and the Dominion. It is clear that the Combine no longer wishes to submit to Dominion rule. The diplomatic ambassadors have shown both aggression and hostility towards the throne and will no longer be tolerated. Friendly relations with the Combine have procured no benefit to the Dominion, therefore the termination of said relationship will not impact the Dominion in any significant way._

_Additional Edit_

_The public stir produced by the now former Kel-Morian ambassadors was something unexpected. Upon the closure of their embassy, it was assumed that they would immediately leave for Moria and her colonies. They did not. They represent the potential for civil unrest. The Dominion will not succumb to internal struggles, especially ones initiated by foreign nationals. The 4 former Kel-Morian Ambassadors must be silenced. Falsified records will be submitted to provide adequate proof that they had returned to Moria. This also presents itself as an opportunity to field test the new Spectre soldiers, as a team will be deployed to handle the ambassadors with extreme prejudice._

"I knew it," breathed Lockwell, excited by the new onslaught of information. "Everyone knew that the Dominion was lying. Now we have proof! What else? What else?"

Donny continued.

_Entry 30_

_Patriotism spurred forth by my inauguration has died down and reports of civil dissatisfaction have been heard. This political climate of revolution and change must not be met with forces extreme enough to reverse all that has been accomplished. The Dominion is not yet ready for the autocracy presented. The Dominion is disappointingly much too large to be run in unitary fashion. Reliance upon sub-federal governments must be made. Dominion systems will be led by Systemic Chancellors and specific planets will be led by Planetary Superintendants. Their power shall be great in theory, but all shall report directly to the throne and will not make any decision without Imperial approval. The appearance of the free Federation must be maintained lest we fall victim to the inadequacies of large scale unitary rule. _

_Additional Edit_

_With such an upheaval of the political hierarchy, it must be assured that the Chancellors and Superintendants of the Dominion cannot be allowed to compromise the true nature of the political structure. Loyalty only goes so far. I have now reached the unequivocal conclusion that only those who fear to lose will ever maintain fidelity in their post, for their own sake. Deals have been made with high ranking members of the Old Families, ones who have survived and maintain enough clout to effectively support or oppose my rule. Members of the Hector, Faravay, Benit, Moore and Victor families are to be the first of several appointments to the newly created positions of Chancellors. The Terra family has been excluded due to its secret and potentially dangerous ties I maintain with them. The Old Families will hold onto their power whilst I hold onto the public approval that is to follow the democratic reforms._

"Now we have official proof that Mengsk was consorting with the Old Families and cutting deals with them!" Kate Lockwell was eager to hear more. Her journalistic mind was firing on all cylinders, waiting to soak up the information. Donny sighed and continued on.

_Entry 480_

_There have been growing challenges to my rule. These are voices of treason and sedition which will not go unanswered. The vitality of the entire Dominion rests on my shoulders and I will not see it crumble to the whims of opportunistic and overly eager politicians. The strength of the Dominion comes from unity. All dissenters must be eliminated in case they one day have the power to harm the integrity of the Dominion. Groups of people have been selected. Confederate supporters harbouring on Tyrrador III will be immediately arrested and arranged to be sent to New Folsom for permanent imprisonment. Chancellor Moore will comply._

_Additional Edit_

_The political activist group known as the Liberation Party is spearheaded by one Emmanuel Sullivan. His death will cripple the Liberation Party as they are left to slowly die off._

_Additional Edit_

_Chancellor Victor has informed me of a young candidate vying for the position of Superintendant of Korhal II. He is a known and vocal supporter of pro-alien relations. Chancellor Victor seems certain that in several months, the Superintendant of Korhal II will be defeated by general election to this young politician. This must not be allowed to happen. It would be an embarrassment to the Dominion. I have arranged for the general elections to be rigged as this young aspiring man can never be allowed reach the position of Planetary Superintendant._

"Does it have anything on Tarsonis?" asked Kate, tentatively.

Donny nodded. "That was the very first entry into Mengsk's manifesto. There's no need to look at it. You already know what happened."

"Well let's see some more then," responded Kate, taking out her notepad.

"There's one in particular I think you should see," said Donny, slowly.

_Entry 311_

_An archaeological corporation, the Mobius Foundation has made a remarkable discovery on the ice moon, Nero, of Braxis Alpha. They have found the remains of a battle fought, a few years before. More importantly, they discovered that there was a testing facility of unknown origin on the moon. Materials were destroyed, but tiny remnants of the unknown tests of alien nature have lingered on and Dr. Narud of the Mobius Foundation seems certain that whatever was created there can be recreated with the proper care and of course, funds. To ensure both cooperation and discretion, I have arranged for Prince Valerian to buy up the majority shares of the Mobius Foundation to discretely bring them under our control._

_Additional Edit_

_Dr. Narud's latest report suggests that the test on Nero was an actual living organism with heightened psionic potential. Early signs show that the recreation is successfully underway. If the doctor's assumptions are correct, the Dominion has just secured the most powerful weapon in known history._

_Additional Edit_

_Dr. Narud is becoming uncooperative in this endeavour. Upon realization that I am to harness the power of this test subject to secure Dominion security, the doctor has shown abrasive behaviour. Valerian, however, has asked that I spare the doctor and simply remove the Mobius Foundation from the experiment. I have agreed and the experiment is now being moved to an installation on the outskirts of the Castanar system, where Dominion engineers will now oversee the project in place of Dr. Narud's lackeys._

_Additional Edit_

_Dominion engineers from the Castanar Project have informed me that the potential of this project is far vaster than they or even Dr. Narud had ever dreamed of. The strength of this recreated beast is infinite and only through years of study can the beast be contained safely within the facility. They tell me the beast needs not be weaponized. It is already a force of destruction in and of itself. These times have proven exciting. Targets are being selected so to best use our new weapon in protecting the state._

_Additional Edit_

_It has now dawned upon me that this project is more than a simple weapon, a gun to be merely aimed at the nearest target. This weapon is unconventional. And there are many ways to use such a weapon, many options to indulge, many opportunities to consider. The Dominion is the uncontested dominant force in the entire Koprulu sector. There isn't a force that could challenge us. There is no threat beyond the Dominion. The threat lies within. There is no threat to the state save for the state itself. And so a weapon of this nature must be utilized accordingly. Rather than target a threat to the state, the weapon must be used on the state itself. The undoing of the Dominion rests in the hand of the Dominion citizens, not Kel-Morian ships or Umojan spies. Therefore this is the only way to protect the Dominion. Its unity must be retained, through patriotism or trepidation. And if one cannot love the state, I will give them a reason to fear it._

Kate was silent for the first time since they had dove into the manifesto. The plethora of secrets had now wandered to the back of her mind as she contemplated what she had just heard. It came as a surprise that Lockwell wasn't even shocked anymore by Mengsk's ruthlessness. But there was something else to consider.

"_What a coincidence that Raynor somehow executed his enemy's plan perfectly," _a voice in her head told her. _"Or not."_

"I'm disappointed in you, Kate," spoke Vermillion, at last. "When I was in the Mental Health Facility, I held onto a single comfort. I told myself that at least with you as lead anchor, there would be real news. At least with you as lead anchor, you wouldn't become a media puppet for the Dominion like I had. At least with you as lead anchor, you would seek the truth rather than have Mengsk whisper it into your ear. I was wrong."

"What?" demanded Lockwell, loudly. "What do you expect me to say? The evidence was all there! The proof was all there! How could I have possibly known-"

"Don't hide behind a veil of ignorance!" cried Donny, firmly. "We're journalists, Kate. When something's not true, we know it to be so and we know it instinctively. You knew there was something wrong, but you chose to accept what you were told. You of all people must know that the editor always has the final say."

Kate slumped into a chair, sinking deeply into it – wanting to escape Donny's disapproving glare.

"I don't blame you, Kate," Donny continued. "I know what it's like. Believe it or not, I was just like you. I was a young reporter who always sought the truth even it was something that I didn't want to hear, even if it landed me in trouble. I wanted the truth, not the Dominion's truth."

"And then?" asked Kate.

Donny sighed. "And then I became lead anchor. And when you're in that position, the nature of the media begins to truly warp you...change you. Your truth is no more important than the paper it's written on or the space it takes up in your head. Your new truth...your only truth is the cold black text of the teleprompter, fed to you by those who you previously wouldn't have kept company of. You stop looking for the truth. And you start looking for the story. When you're a reporter, you deal in truth. When you're lead anchor, you deal in theatrics."

"Damn it," spat Kate, bitterly. "I suppose Mengsk had a grand time knowing that he had played me like a violin! Stupid idiot...I'm such a fool! I...I didn't want to be like you, Donny."

Donny reached out and patted her on the shoulder, comfortingly. "Me neither."

OOO

Nova stood on the hard earth of Tarsonis. Her lone bag was swung over her shoulder. Her hand glided across the metal jagged edges of the Raven that she had had one of Rory Swann's subordinates lug out of the hangar bay. Her flight skills needed a little touching up, but she figured she'd handle it just fine. There was nothing left for her here. But on Korhal...on Korhal there was a world of opportunity. She was going to pay a certain someone an unexpected visit.

She hadn't spotted Raynor or Kerrigan. That gave her a slight pang of regret. If they were here, she would have thanked Jimmy for freeing her mind, and thanked him for giving her a chance to make a difference. She would have apologized to Kerrigan for not being able to heed her warning. She would have apologized for not being able to be stronger.

She would have.

She placed a foot onto the rail of the Raven, ready to haul the rest of her body into the steel frame of the small cruiser. The odd feeling remained. She had spent much time in the company of others, much more than she had ever done before. When she got into the Raven, she'd isolate herself once more, ignoring all but what awaited her – the face of Arcturus Mengsk as he begged for mercy.

"So this is how it is," said a voice behind her, riddled with disappointment. "I can't say I'm not surprised."

"Then you get to say you told me so, Matt," replied Nova, keeping her foot on the hull of the Raven. "I tried, I seriously did. I tried to forget about Mengsk. I tried to block him from my mind and try to help the people who helped me. But every time I tried to forget, it came back stronger and stronger each time, with an unrelenting malice. It's like walking out to sea. You can only get so far before the tides of the ocean beat you down again and again until you end up back on the very shores you swore to be rid of. And I'm too weak to fight it now. I've been beaten. All I have left is the shore. I'm not strong enough to be a Raider anymore."

Matt Horner shook his head, sadly. "It's all the same, you know? Everywhere you go it's the same sort of bullshit that always happens. And you know what I've realized? It might not be worth it to be a decent person in this indecent universe. Because the people who owe you so much, are the first to back away when they are called. Raynor and Kerrigan just went missing in New Gettysburg and you're about to hop on a ship and abandon us. Do us all a favour and get the hell out of here, Nova. Abandon Kerrigan on Tarsonis. You'd be the second Mengsk to do that. You're not a Raider, Nova. You never were."

"What would you have me do!" yelled Nova, in frustration. "I can't go on like I did in the past! I need this!"

"Bear it," told Horner. "Suffer through it, and when that last wave comes face to face with you, don't you budge one inch. Because when the push comes to shove, Mengsk was right about one thing. Strength lies in unity. And you can hide behind the excuse that you're not strong enough, but don't expect me to buy that bullshit. Your strength is measured by the people around you. And the people around you, they've already walked out to sea and back! What does that say about you?"

Matt turned away and began walking. He had warned Raynor of this. If the Raiders were to perish, it would be because of their allies, not because of the Dominion. Matt had tried to save Raynor of this, to no avail. What would happen to Warfield when things got too quiet? What would happen to the mercenaries when they stopped getting paid? The same thing that happened to Nova when she found something better to do. He decided to turn around only once more.

"And Nova," he called to the woman, staring blankly at the hull of the Raven. "If no one had ever walked out to sea and kept walking, if no one had ever stood against the wave had kept going, we'd all be nothing. What are you?"

Nova watched as the captain of the Hyperion walked back onboard his ship. She tried to tell herself that the dust was irritating her eyes, but even she knew that was untrue. Her lips were dry and her muscles tense.

"I'm sorry...but I...I can't...I _am_ nothing."

As Matthew Horner stepped up the wide ramp of the Hyperion, he shook his head once again. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. His neck would snap soon as would his tenacity. Mira Han...his wife for whatever that was worth, was working for his sworn enemy. His commander in chief and the single most important woman in the sector were missing. They had no more resources to keep their revolution operational. Nova had just abandoned them to go get herself killed. And last but not least, Horner had been informed that the Umojan Minister of all people had just landed on Tarsonis and was requesting an audience.

The young captain rubbed his eyes tiredly. With revolution came exhaustion. And Matt was just about ready to fall asleep standing up. He exhaled loudly, trying to regain his composure. The doors in front of him hissed open and Matt walked into the room as confidently as he could. But on the inside, anxiety was eating away at him. Nevertheless if there was one person he had to keep that from, it'd be the man in front of him now, the leader of the Umojan Protectorate. From what he had heard, the Umojan leader was nothing less than a stoic and utterly unrevealing character with no indulgences in anything besides what he intended to discuss. His positions and stances were solid and unwavering while his edifying stare could reveal the deepest secrets of anyone who met eye contact with him. He'd have to stave off the leader the best he could.

"Minister Ducos, welcome," greeted Matt in a welcome that even he recognized to be hollow. "I am Captain Matthew Horner of the Hyperion and James Raynor's second in command for the Raiders. I regret to inform you that if you want an audience with Raynor, it'll have to wait a bit. He's a bit...preoccupied at the moment."

"Quite an operation you've got going," commented the Minister. "Of course that's not true at all is it? If your operation was going smooth you wouldn't be in this situation. You would have detected the electromagnetic fields surrounding Tarsonis. Instead you're stuck on this dead planet, repairing your engines while the Dominion continues to move against us all. All the glorious talk of Raynor's Revolution...perhaps talk is all it is."

Matt was in no mood for this unwarranted animosity. He knew exactly what the Minister was doing.

"You're attempt is painfully transparent, Minister Ducos," spoke the captain. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. Your best bet would be to come clean with me and speak honestly. I know that's not easy for you Umojan folk. Don't comment on how we run the Raiders while you run your bankrupt Protectorate without a penny for your troubles. You want me to think that we need you. In reality, it's quite the opposite."

The minister pressed his lips firmly together. This wasn't a simple-minded Kel-Morian he could manipulate. The man before him was sharp, he'd give him that. And he also was detecting something of an anger being emitted from Matthew Horner.

"Minister Ducos, tell me something before you continue with your tirade of theatrics," pressed Matt. "You are, as Umojans appear to be, a gentleman and a scholar. Of course we can't ignore the surreptitious urges that govern your whole state, but we'll let that slide for now. But my question is, how much of a scholar are you really?"

The minister was uncertain how to respond. "What do you mean?"

"You will," assured Horner. "How about a story? Yes. A good story always helped pass the time."

The Minister showed signs of seething, something which made Horner inexplicably happy. So he continued.

"Our story begins with two characters. They are rivals and compete on nearly every level for fame, fortune and of course to reaffirm the human temperament. On day, these two characters are sick of edging around the point of no return. They become impatient about tiptoeing around each other, opposing each other secretly yet doing nothing when called out. They are tired of being at the brink and now they face an impasse. These two characters are the Terran Confederacy and the Kel-Morian Combine."

"Neither of which I lead," interrupted the Minister, impatiently.

"And that's beside the point," mentioned Matt. "Back to the story, these two characters go to war. Over economics or politics, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that they engage in a bloody conflict that is very close and at many times could have gone either way. In the end however, it is the Terran Confederacy who emerges as the victor. Now at this point in the story, things do not go according to plan. The Kel-Morian Combine is bruised and bloodied and even today reels from the defeat of the Guild Wars. Subsequently following the end of the Guild Wars, two Superpowers emerge in wake of the war. The first of course, is the Terran Confederacy. The second is the Umojan Protectorate, a new state which is both smaller and less militarily capable, yet possesses potential beyond all in the Sector. Do you understand me now, Minister?" asked the captain, slightly angered.

"You're point being?" demanded the Minister, arms crossed, revealing nothing.

"The main competitor of the Terran Confederacy following the Guild Wars, was the Umojan Protectorate," stated Horner. "The Protectorate engaged in indirect conflicts with the Confederates. They were relatively low key, especially compared to the Guild Wars. But it is at this point where a new player appears. It is a small but loyal group led by a very important man. This man comes from a line of power and strength. He is charismatic and cunning and he is ruthless and violent. You know who I'm talking about."

"Arcturus Mengsk..."

"...and the Sons of Korhal," finished Matt. "The Sons of Korhal were a revolutionary group hell bent on seeing the Confederacy fall to its knees. But they were small. And regardless of what Mengsk would claim, they were weak."

"If you want to say something, it's best you say it bluntly," replied the brisk and impatient leader.

"Very well, Minister. I know what the Protectorate did in the interbellum. You fought a proxy war with the Terran Confederacy. You supplied the Sons of Korhal with weapons and ammunition. Anything they needed to fight off the Confederacy, you gave willingly. And when they succeeded, when the Sons of Korhal finally deposed the Confederates, you did not make the problem go away. You simply replaced it with another. Arcturus Mengsk didn't care what you did for him. You used him to overthrow the Confederacy and now it's coming back to bite you in the ass. You wanted victory and yet because of your actions, you're now embroiled in a long and destructive conflict with the very man you helped elevate. If you are to ask something of us, Minister, I suggest presenting them in a fashion befitting of your stature. You are in no position to make demands as we both well know. You tread on thin ice even regardless of that. Knowing that your state was integral in the inception of the Terran Dominion will win you no points. There is a time to be proud and a time to be humble. This is the latter."

Minister Ducos kept silent, though internally acknowledging who was now in charge of their conversation. His ploy of dominance had failed. This captain knew far more than he should about the Umojan involvement with the Sons of Korhal. He admitted, it was a mistake, a far easier one to admit now in their current predicament. His predecessor was one of the many fooled by Arcturus Mengsk. And all those years later, the Protectorate was paying the price, quite literally.

Raynor had picked a damn good second in command.

"You won't be intimidating me, Minister," said the second in command firmly. "And if you wish to have any diplomatic conversations whatsoever, you're going to have to make it up to us, just to receive audience."

Minister Ducos wondered whether or not this young man had Umojan blood coursing within his veins. He certainly had all the attributes – so much so in fact that he was beating the leader at his own game. This here was a prime Umojan. The Minister kicked himself for failing to realize that sooner.

"You drive a hard bargain, Captain Horner," sighed Minister Ducos. "Forcing me to give up information even before we begin relations, that's a move that most couldn't pull off. Alas, I concede. As a Umojan, I know which battles can be won and which are...harder to win."

The Minister grinned widely. "What I know, before the Network went down, is something ancient from a time before us and groups of power well established before any of us saw our first ray of light. There is something hidden that lies within the deserted remains of Tarsonis, something long forgotten by all. It is a thing of great history and great power. What lies on Tarsonis isn't of gold or weapons. It isn't territory or natural resources. No, it is much more...dynamic than these things. What lies on Tarsonis is something that has so finely tuned the very concept of adaptability that it has become an indestructible presence, yielding to nothing, not even time itself. No matter what situation it has faced, it has survived, in whatever way it could. It something as valiant and glorious as it is terrible and injurious. And if I were to guess, it is why I am speaking to you right now instead of Mr. Raynor."

Matt's vast curiosity betrayed his resolute posture, as he bent forward, eyes showing concern. "What?"

The Umojan Minister knelt equally as far, almost touching butting heads with one another. The intensity of their glare was unmatched and eyesight was not broken, not for a second. He grinned again, as he once again resumed his advantageous position.

"Tell me Captain Horner, what do you know of the Old Families?"

* * *

**Author's Note: What will happen to Nova? What role do the Old Families play into all of this? And most importantly, where in the world are Raynor and Kerrigan? One of the best things about reading is to contemplate what happens next. It may be a thought that manifests itself into a fully fledged story in and of itself. It could lead to a train of thought that can either coincide or diverge with what is really going to happen. Regardless, it fuels the imagination like no other source. That's why I encourage every reader to start thinking about the questions brought up in this chapter. Review with what you think.**

** One another note, I have been thoroughly and continually impressed in the intelligence of the readership in this story. Several have already picked up on the historic derivations that I am pulling from. If not, then I made it very obvious in this chapter. It is also somewhat strange that as I was writing this chapter, the news broke about the death of Osama Bin Laden. If readers are still unable to pick up the historic similarities regarding the relationship between the Confederacy, Protectorate and the Sons of Korhal (now Dominion) then it is imperative that you start studying history, for personal enrichment or to form the basis of creative material. There are specific events of the past that I strongly pull from, while of course adapting it according to the nature of the story.**

**A lot of people don't read the author's note so to the few who do, I'd like to thank you for your steadfast support and reviews. I wouldn't enjoy writing this half as much if others didn't vocally express their enjoyment of it as well. So review if you want, or read and judge in silence if that is to your liking. Either way, thanks and I'll see you guys in the next chapter.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: Remember me?**

* * *

There were footsteps in the dirt. They left an imprint one so trivially brief that they could fly for the incessant dust covered all the tracks. Dragging their feet as they shielded their eyes from the flight of dirt, these men knew the harshness of the land, yet would never be accustomed to this, not even after a long 4 years. They had lapse formation, an onset of the sharp decline in discipline. Though at least they were still sharp enough after all those years to keep their precious cargo in the middle while spreading themselves out in a staggered formation around them.

"Someone want to tell me where we're going?" asked a captive loudly. The bag muffled his voice.

The men sneered. "Keep quiet K-scum."

"K-scum?" remarked the other captive. "I suppose you're using the abbreviation of Koprulu scum? Well that's a derogatory term isn't it?"

"Shut up," barked another soldier.

But the captive wouldn't yield. "Why would you say K-scum? We're in Koprulu Sector aren't we? Of course then that means there's only one conclusion. The only reason you'd call us K-scum is because _you_ aren't K-scum. So I'm guessing you're not from Koprulu sector. You're from the UED."

The soldiers froze. One, seemingly the commander, walked up to the captive brusquely and grabbed his prisoner by the collar. "How the hell did you know that?"

"A better choice of words would do you some good," was the venom laced reply.

"Well then I guess I'll keep it simple," snarled the soldier. "Move!"

The barrel pressed against the captive's back sharply. No further incentive was needed. They resumed their silent march. The characteristic groan of an old building forced the company to stop and take note. The creaking of the structure was but a foreshadow as was the avalanche of tiny pebbles falling from the building. With a deafening crash, the structure caved in on itself and shook the ground with tremendous force. The company was tense.

"Come on, let's check it out," spoke the commanding soldier.

"Come on, Captain," whined another. "It's just another collapse. We get stuff like that once a month. It's just a common occurrence, nothing to bother looking at."

"They'll want something salvaged," said the captain immediately. "We'll at least take a look. Restrain the prisoners and let's get a move on."

The captives were strung up together. Apparently they must have been strung onto a fairly tall object for neither of their feet touched the floor and the most movement they could achieve was mundanely swinging from side to side. The footsteps of the soldiers died down and speech remained unspoken until the appropriate time had passed.

"Sarah?"

"I'm here Jim."

"So what's going on?" asked the commander. "We could have taken them all out plenty of times. They sure gave us some good opportunities."

"Let's just play along," sighed Kerrigan. "It's a pain, but I want to find out who they report to. And with my vision obscured and my senses disorientated, I can barely lock on to a target let alone delve into his thoughts."

"So that whole K-scum thing..."

"Lucky guess," she laughed dryly. "But that does raise some questions doesn't it?"

"Everyone knew there were a couple survivors," said Raynor. "That was inevitable. Some deserted the fleet, some hired themselves out as mercenaries and I guess some came here for whatever reason."

Before Kerrigan could respond, the soldiers were back. Now more impatient, the company roughly cut the pair down and at a faster pace, began moving quickly. Jagged dust turned into a cool breeze. Uneven earth became paved flooring. And despite their blindness, the pair knew that they had been taken somewhere very different. Still walking, Raynor and Kerrigan were suddenly pushed to their knees. Their masks were removed quickly and the sight before them was bizarre as they had ever seen.

This place...it actually looked like someplace more fitting in a Core World. They were in a building, a very expensive building. The ceilings were high and the lights were many. Marble black floors reflected their grimy features and around them were several ornamented chairs, the kind found in the Chancellery. But this was far from Korhal IV. The pair craned their necks in confusion.

"The infamous James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan," spoke an unfamiliar voice. "I never thought I'd see the day."

A grey haired man stepped in front of them, sinking into one of the seats with a groan. He was clearly aged and gave Raynor an uncanny feeling that this man and Mengsk didn't seem too unlike each other, even from the introduction.

"You have us at a disadvantage," said Raynor.

"Well then I see it fit to continue it a little while longer," said the old man, giving a smile that induced disgust. "Raynor, Raynor, Raynor. You're about the only man more wanted than me right now. I feel that we can understand one another. How's the freedom fighting going? That is if you still call it freedom fighting, not making a hell of a payday."

"What's that supposed to mean," asked a testy commander.

"Don't feel ashamed, son. In fact that's pretty ingenious if you ask me. Putting up a fallacy of a struggle for liberty while you raid Dominion cargo, get rich selling those alien thingys, that's a hell of a scheme. Not many people could pull that off."

Protest fell on deaf ears as the man moved to Kerrigan.

"Ah Miss Kerrigan," he greeted. "I must say, those UNN reports don't do you justice. Glad you didn't keep the hair."

Kerrigan didn't say anything. He face was twisted in confusion. She breathed heavily and frustrated.

"My, my," he laughed. "Trying to read minds before even extending a hand? Kids these days...no respect. Ha!"

He showed her a small device within the palm of his hand. It shook every so often, giving off a purple hue. Kerrigan felt drained, like she did when Dr. Hansen put a psionic dampener on her. It made sense now. That's why Kerrigan wasn't able to read the minds of her captors. They were carrying those devices as well. That's why her conjured psionic storms were dying faster than the blink of an eye.

"You know," he began. "I really should be thanking you, Mr. Raynor. I really thought I had lost it all after this grand planet fell, in no small part thanks to you. Then with very long introspection I deduced that maybe you did me a favour."

Neither Raynor nor Kerrigan knew what he was talking about but the man didn't seem to care.

He rambled on. "I was always playing second fiddle to the damn Faravays. _They_ always got preferential treatment from the Confederacy. _Their_ counsel was always the most valued. And _their_ monopolies were always the ones ignored by the anti-trust commission. It was ridiculous. And now...now I don't have the Faravays standing over me. We're on our own, make our own rules, doing what we want to do."

"This would make a lot more sense if we know who the hell you are," snapped Kerrigan.

"Or if we care?" remarked the commander.

"Oh, I thought your intuition would have discerned my identity immediately," spoke the old man. "Such a shame you seem to be a one trick pony, Miss Kerrigan. Take away your psionic powers and you can't read me better than anyone else can."

The old man stood up, grinning wildly. "Well I guess I'll announce myself then. You need not know my name, as much as what group that that name belongs to..."

OOO

_"Hello, I am Cathy Foxington, the new lead anchor of the UNN. We regret to inform you of some very troubling news. Disturbing as this may seem and as disappointed as we here at UNN may be, Kate Lockwell, the former lead anchor has committed Sector level felonies against the Dominion and its citizens. In these last few days, she has broken into and released Donny Vermillion, another former UNN lead anchor. He is a clearly delusional man and for precaution we must also assume that Kate Lockwell is of similar mindset right now. After breaking out a Dominion detainee, she proceeded to assault and kill an operative of the Dominion and was implicated in the Umojan embassy crisis which resulted in the deaths of 5 Dominion Internal Security officers. We encourage all citizens to be readily on the watch for this pair of criminals so they may be brought to justice and we may once again enjoy the prosperity and security of the Dominion."_

"_In other news, the Umojan Protectorate has officially declared bankruptcy. The economic state is dire and it faces the largest financial crisis of Korprulu history. Inflation is unyielding and some believe Umoja is destined to become the next Dead Man's Rock. In light of the seizure of financial assets, the Umojan Minister Ducos has issued a formal plea to the Dominion to repeal the harsh punishments set forth. The KMC has declined to comment. And now with both embassies to both factions closed, communications have been severed. More and more clandestine Umojan agents are being caught. The number of conspirators has reached in the hundreds at this point. Despite these many arrests, sources show that there have been dozens of extradition requests sent to the Umojan Protectorate as well as Dominion backed subpoenas for several high ranking officers within the Umojan Ruling Council. The Emperor has issued a statement encouraging all dutifully bound citizens to report any signs of Umojan presence to the nearest Dominion Internal Security officer."_

"_It appears as if the emergency acquisition of Wolfe Industries is finally complete. After the immediate seizure of Umojan owned paramilitary technology firm Enlightened Dynamics, the issue has been raised whether or not privately owned paramilitary corporations threaten Dominion security. The Emperor has swiftly responded to these claims by nationalizing Wolfe Industries, the leading privately owned company in the production of Infantry armoured suits to Dominion soldiers. The Emperor promises that such an acquisition while aggressive, will ensure the excellent quality and just regulation of these armours shall not longer be able to run free under private enterprise and must now be under the watchful eye of Dominion oversight and control."_

"_Finally, distrust by the Braxis system is-"_

"Enough of that," said the Minister lightly as he flicked off the screen.

"The Old Families?" repeated Matt, unbelieving. "I'm...I'm sorry did we at one point deviate into fiction here? Because I'm not following you anymore."

"I'll say again," said the Minister, equally proud of his advantage. "What do you know of the Old Families?"

Matt met the man with a blank stare, before sighing and deciding to humour this elusive man.

"A bit, I guess," admitted the Captain. "They were the rich aristocrats during the time of the Terran Confederacy. They formed the Confederacy's Oligarchy. Every decision made either appealed to or appeased the Old Families."

"Anything else?"

"They...they were extremely wealthy," said Horner. "Each owned industry leading corporations and had massive investments in all potentially returning projects including many of the Confederate's colonial operations. And I still don't see how this connects. You do remember that Mengsk attacked Tarsonis right? He attacked the headquarters of the Confederacy and the Old Families. He wiped them out!"

"Tell me a man of your level of intellect does not truly believe that such an influential group would allow themselves to vanish virtually overnight," said Minister Ducos, smugly. "They were the masterminds behind the Confederacy. They were the ones pulling all the strings for almost 200 years. Do you really think that Mengsk or the Protoss or even the Zerg could just destroy hundreds of years of political dominance in one fell swoop?"

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," proclaimed a stubborn captain.

"Then tell me, how hard did they fall?" asked the Minister, pressingly. "What impact did their loss make on the rest of the Sector where they were involved with every industry in some way, shape or form? Why was there no financial backlash? Why did the Korprulu economy not suffer in the _least_ bit when the most influential people in the Sector vanished leaving a void of money, clout and power?"

"You're trying to convince me of something I know to be wrong," started Matthew Horner.

The Minister paused, intricately frowning and gazing into the young captain's mind. The captain was powerless to the man's scrutiny. He then smiled.

"Oh," he said, finally. "Oh, now I see what's going on. It's all clear to me now. Now I know why you are so vehemently defending your supposition. Ah. You are an interesting man, Captain Horner."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that what you know to be wrong is only what you know to be wrong not because you know it. It's only wrong because you believe it," commented the Minister, now lounging back in his chair. His dominance had been reasserted. He had this young man wrapped around his thumb, hanging on his every word. "You're a bit of an idealist aren't you?"

"I believe in freedom and justice. If that's what constitutes an idealist then so be it," replied Horner, roughly.

"It's a lot easier to fight for one's principle than to live up to them," spoke the Minister. "Especially in a world where the ideas you fight for are those that are as alien to us as the Protoss or the Zerg. Idealism comes from an ideal world with ideal people. Look around you son. This is a far cry of that place."

Excited, the Minister beckoned Horner close, who had been keeping his distance.

"You want so desperately to believe that the Old Families died with the Confederacy that day," he said, now more characteristic of himself. "You want so desperately to believe that. Why? Because you know now what happened after. You know that your actions did not save the Sector. You exchanged one dictatorship for the next and threw the Sector into further tyranny. So maybe you keep yourself up at night thinking long and hard on that decision to destroy Tarsonis. Maybe you lose sleep. Maybe you lose a little bit of your mind. And then the breaking point comes where the only thing you can do to stay sane, is to rationalize it. You tell yourself that you had to have done something, _anything_ to justify what you did on Tarsonis. It _had_ to be worth something, right?"

"They're dead!" roared Horner, finally.

"They are dead in your world, Mr. Horner," said the Minister, standing up as well. "They are dead in your idealistic mind, not in ours. The universe does not cater to your naive fantasies. It's time to grow up. The real world crushes, kicks and spits back out idealistic ideas in a heap of pragmatic ambivalence. It's high time you wake up, Mr. Horner. Face the truth. Face the horrid but very real conclusion that your attack on Tarsonis did _nothing_! Nothing but get more terrans killed, nothing but destroy a planet of 3 billion people, nothing but create the two deadliest enemies this sector has ever witnessed!"

The Minister's sharp analytical mind was working wonders as he dissected every inch of the now vulnerable second in command. Horner attempted to conceal his distraught, but it was inevitably clear. The Minister had gotten to him. He was the one who was going to bring Matt's world down on him. There was no ideal paradise waiting on the other side. There was no liberty switch to be flicked on after Mengsk was dead.

"You know the reliability of the Network," said the Minister, quietly. "But don't believe me if you don't want to. Continue living a lie, altering reality to fit your new consciousness. But if you are done with this childish idealism, if you want to make a _real_ difference in the _real_ world, take a closer look at the Systemic Chancellors. Take a look at their history and their finances. You'll find all but 2 of the 12 Chancellors are members of the Old Family chosen specifically by Mengsk."

The Minister was no longer grinning. He understood the seriousness of this situation. The conversation these two men were having, it could amount into a life defining moment. There was no humour to be had now, no ego to be stroked nor pride to be gained.

"You think I'm a fool for believing that the Old Families are dead," asked Horner, quietly after a short time. "You think I'm a fool for believing this Sector can become a better place?"

"This Sector can always become a better place," assured Minister Ducos. "But it will never be _your_ ideal place. It brings me no joy in telling you this, but your dream, your ideal sector will never come true. Listen to me, it will _never_ come true. Idealism and striving for that which is unreachable is to be commended only to an extent. It breeds progress. It breeds hope. But it breeds misery and disillusionment. You want to know why people like you are a rare gem? It's because this universe has no use for them. There is no place for an idealist when all would settle for less. "

As if the moments before had been a blur, the Minister shook his head clearly and took a breath. "Clearly, we have discussed things venturing away from my original intentions. I will give you hard facts, nothing more, nothing less. What you make of them is your own business. The Old Families are very much still alive and thriving. Those who weren't bought up by Mengsk returned to Tarsonis for reasons even I do not know. When Deadman's Rock found its way into the orbit of the Tarsonis system, the Old Families became the biggest crime syndicate in the sector. These are facts. Now if this constitutes an extension of good faith, I bid you adieu in the hopes that we may resume conversation upon the return of Mr. Raynor. Good day, Captain Horner."

He left the young captain to his thoughts. At that moment, even the Minister of the Umojan Protectorate would never be able to discern quite what Horner was thinking.

OOO

Kerrigan and Raynor were now sitting in chairs across from the newly named Alan Manchester. Their hands were no longer bound, but the soldiers stayed ominously close and Manchester kept the psionic dampener on hand at all times. It was not out of character for the Old Families to display fallacious civility in quite opposite cases.

"That's your story?" asked Kerrigan, though mostly convinced.

"In all its glory," laughed Manchester. "You know how much of a pain it was to set up those electromagnetic fields? Took us months of work, not to mention those damn engineers we had to kidnap...But hey, if it trapped you on here, I guess it was worth it. You wanna know a little secret? There's only one way off this planet. Stray off the beaten path, you run into an EMP field. The best you can hope for at that point is to clear the gravitational pull and end up dead in space. Worst case scenario, your engines fail before you clear the orbit and you come tumbling back into our hands."

Raynor and Kerrigan looked at each other uneasily. If they had to guess, they'd say the man was a bit messed up in the head if not downright delusional. He appeared to be talking to himself more than them. His eyes sparkled with self-righteousness and his grinned marked him with smugness. He continued rambling on.

"Should probably thank Mira. If she hadn't shown up in full force to take the Ion Cannon, we would have never considered the need for planetary defences," mumbled the Manchester. "Seems like the Braxans aren't the only ones with impenetrable fortresses!"

"It's not impenetrable," remarked Kerrigan, immediately. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's an entire fleet sitting on this world. And we breached it easily."

"Oh no!" gasped the conceited old man. "See, I was under the impression that _our_ fields disabled all _your_ ships upon which point where you had no other option than to land in Tarsonis constituting an emergency landing, not a deliberate stop. I was also under the impression that with the dust storm over Tarsonis, strategic vantage points are at a minimum therefore so are strategic advantages. I was under the impression that since we know the terrain infinitely better than you, then it doesn't matter how many ships you have, we'd pick you off one by one and collect your ships once you're all dead. But maybe I'm mistaken."

"Arrogant bastard," muttered Kerrigan, angrily.

"You won't hold out forever," Raynor pointed out. "You're underestimating us and you don't have a clue what you're up against."

This angered Manchester. He threw aside a glass he was casually sipping from. His face boiled red and he leaned in closely as if the heat and anger radiated from his body onto others who circumspectly backed off accordingly.

"I know EXACTLY who I'm up against," he breathed. "I know all I need to about you, Mr. Raynor. You destroyed my planet, you sacked my empire, you killed my associates, and now you want to do it again. But we're wise to your game, son. And rest assured, we know everything about you. You on the other hand...you know nothing of us except the small details we grant you."

He looked out the glass, which was blotched with several dirt stains and that which wasn't obscured saw only the infinity of dust and grime.

"Contrary to what people believe," started the man. "I own this sector! Every ship that goes missing, every pirate that makes port, every major larceny that takes place and every planet that suffers from rapidly expanding crime, we own! Deadman's Rock is mine! Even Mira knew better than to cross me. If she had waited days longer than to take that contract, we would have destroyed her and removed her from Deadman's Port with ease! But we control more than Tarsonis and we control more than the Rock. Our reach spans from Jandaara to Nephor. It touches the outskirts of Brontes and even that of Korhal itself."

He stood up, stretching his back and sighing loudly. Two guards came up behind them and secured Raynor and Kerrigan from moving.

"Regardless of what you think of us, Mr. Raynor, regardless of how big your force is, the point remains: we have you hostage. And if the Raiders even want to think about finding anything but two bullet riddled corpses thrown into the streets like dogs, they'll do exactly as we say."

Manchester opened his mouth to say more. His mouth stopped abruptly, as if losing the skill of speech. Such a break from pompous diatribe was as welcomed as it was curious. Mouth opened, Manchester began to crane his neck sideways. His eyes contorted awkwardly and his grimacing face showed signs of discomfort. Kerrigan and Raynor shared a quick confused glance. Shakily and somewhat strangely, the man raised his right hand. His fingers unravelled slowly and revealed the psionic dampener. Amazingly, it floated. It was levitating above his hand. With nothing but previous silence, the object was speedily projected to the nearest wall.

Kerrigan felt it immediately. It was as if she was living under a blanket and the veil had finally been lifted. She felt like she could finally breathe. As soon as her psionic powers came back, she relinquished them in the form of small storms around the extremities of the room. UED guards roared in pain and fell to the ground, nerves fried and bodies shaking. Raynor acted immediately as well. He broke away from stunned guards. Re-directing the barrel of the weapon away from the pair, he landed two solid blows to the guard who immediately released his weapon. With adrenaline to boot, he forced the other guard down with his swinging arm.

"Don't move!" screamed Manchester. He held a small revolver in his hand. His breath was strained and his eyes showed paranoia. "Don't you move! I- ugh"

He was sent flying back. His revolver flew from his hand and his arms went to his chest, trying to soothe his bruised chest. His hands were ripped from his chest and placed forcefully at his side. He gasped slightly and finally showed his terror. Raynor and Kerrigan were still several feet away.

First the silver boot appeared, and then the leg and then the torso and the golden hair. With a foot over the man's chest, the soldier looked fierce as her barrel was aimed only at the man's face.

"I-I know you!" gasped the man. "You-you're...you're Mengsk's kid!"

The soldier leaned close. "My name is November. Annabelle. Terra."

* * *

**Author's Note: Sucess! That was pre-emptive by the way. I think I found out how to develop Matt Horner's character at long last. Readers will end up judging how well it worked but for now, I'm finally satisfied for having expanded him. And I must apologize. I made a pretty dumb blunder in earlier chapters. I tend to write only when I feel like writing, thus making sure nothing is forced or half-assed. The repercussion is that sometimes, the timing and sync is off between chapters as it was here. I really didn't want to bring Nova back so soon, but my timing got screwed up and I don't want to stay on Tarsonis too long so I had to make a decision. I'm not sure if it's the right one, but it's the one I'm going with. Anyway, please review and give me whatever sort of input you would like. I like reading praise as much as hatred anyway. And if there are any suggestions, my story is open to deviation of sorts. Any changes readers wished to be corrected will always be considered. As the poll and reviews have shown, many do not share my view on Valerian, therefore it shall be changed in the future, but not revised. Thanks for reading!**


	36. Chapter 36

_With a foot over the man's chest, the soldier looked fierce as her barrel was aimed only at the man's face._

_"I-I know you!" gasped the man. "You-you're...you're Mengsk's kid!"_

_The soldier leaned close. "My name is November. Annabelle. Terra."_

_OOO_

"You sure saved our asses, Nova," commented Raynor.

"What, you think I got cold feet?" she asked in return. Her tone was playful but when Kerrigan met her glance, they both understood what was going on.

Manchester coughed painfully as he was lugged to his feet by Nova Terra. She glanced only briefly at Kerrigan and Raynor. With an intensifying grip, she threw the man back into his chair of once found glory. Her gaze was equally intense as her demeanour.

"I don't care if you're the Emperor's daughter!" snarled Manchester. "I'll make you pay, bitch."

"You threatened my friends and now you're threatening me," cautioned Nova. "You're none the wiser I see."

Manchester refrained from laughter as his chest was still bruised. He did however spark a mocking smirk at the young soldier. She was definitely the picture that the UNN had posted as Mengsk's daughter. He never thought he'd meet her. Then again, she was rumoured to be Raynor's captive. It turns out the Dominion falsified information once again. But that was of no concern to Manchester at the moment. She was here now. And Manchester was about to pay her in full for all the good deeds her father had done.

"I'm wise beyond my years, girl," said Manchester. "And believe me I have many years on you. You come into my base, toss around a few guards and you think that you're in positions to be making demands? Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Do you have any idea who you're threatening? I'm the man who can make anyone disappear anytime I want! I can sack a planet with just one word! I can bring systems to their knees and its people begging for mercy! Do you know who I am? I know you do so do us both a favour and don't waste my time girl."

"I'm wasting your time, am I?" snapped Nova, pressing the barrel of her rifle against Manchester's head, hoping the devilish smirk would cease but it grew wider.

"Girl, _you're_ none the wiser. What do you think will happen when the UED Special Guard under my payroll hears what's happening here? How long do you think it will take them to notice something's off?"

A giant explosion rumbled the building, drawing away all eyes but Nova's. The shadow of the ball of fire descended and fought against the dusty winds for who could create the most carnage.

"I think," remarked Kerrigan slowly, "you're guards will have their hands preoccupied for a little while."

The smirk was fading from his face.

"Get the others," barked Nova.

"Girl, I have no idea what-"

Nova whipped the butt of her rifle, hitting the man in the back of the head. Manchester crumpled to the floor with a flurry of painful yells and well refined curses. That got a reaction out of him.

"Listen, you crazy bitch I-"

He was silenced once more as Nova enforced her mandate upon the Manchester Family. She met his glare and dared him to try again. With hateful resignation, he slowly got up and hobbled back to his chair. He held a button on it. For a while, he remained silent. When he turned his head, all three rifles were pointed at him. Fear was finally manifesting in his brain for the first time in years. With thoughts of future revenge, he decided to appease his opponents for the time being.

Five people marched into the grand room clearly frustrated and irritated. They stopped in front of the man in the chair, head held low and indiscernible. They paused for a few seconds before impatience stepped in.

"What the hell do you want Manchester?" snapped one of the women loudly. "What the hell is so urgent?"

"We are," spoke Raynor, emerging from behind a pillar. He could see their eyes widened as his identity sunk into the minds of the remaining Old Families.

One of them made to back away. Only, he was encountered by two recently de-cloaked ghosts whose rifles and pissed off attitudes quelled his ambition for escape. Ushered next to Manchester, the Old Families shot Manchester glares of contempt. The three Raiders stood against the Old Families and the atmosphere was thick. Raynor made to speak, but one of the Old Families spoke first.

"You ought to know, what you're doing is foolish," she stated. "There are some who have questioned us and even acted against us. They came from all over the Sector with various planetary backgrounds. You know what they all have in common? Each is dead with their bodies floating in dead space as an example to the rest! I don't care who the hell you think you are! I don't care how much power you think you have! When we're through, I'm placing the bounty: 2 million credits to the one who kills this asshole. Raynor, I don't give a damn what kind of freedom fighter you think you are. You're threatening the Old Families. You're threatening _me, _the Elias family! You owe everything in your real estate to me! I owned you back then, and I still own you now! And who are these girls with you? Huh? You got the zerg leader and then some blondie who thinks she's hot stuff trying to mend her tender ego after finding out she's Mengsk's bastard."

"Spare me the lecture," interrupted Raynor. "I've heard your tirades more than enough, and you'd do well to keep your mouth shut, Elias."

Before Raynor could speak again, he saw Nova slowly approach the woman Elias. With hardened eyes, Nova whispered to her softly.

"What the hell did you call me?"

"A bastard!" she spat back.

She hit the ground grasping her wounded head. Nova rolled her over with her boot and looked the elitist woman in the eye. "Let's get one thing straight, Elias. My name is Nova Terra."

"Enough!" roared another. "What do you want?"

"Deactivate your Electromagnetic fields around Tarsonis," ordered Kerrigan. "Take all external defences offline and provide us safe passage from the planet."

"Fine!" snapped Manchester. "Do whatever the hell they want! Just get them out of here!"

The man who spoke gestured for Kerrigan to follow him. Together, they exited the room. Raynor knew fully well that Kerrigan would be more than enough to handle a frail aristocrat. All that mattered now were the remaining Old Family members in front of him. They seemed tentative.

"Why do you think they came back to Tarsonis?" Raynor whispered to Nova. "They could just as easily hidden in one of the dozen Brontes systems and it would have provided a better infrastructure to work with. They could have settled into Nephor where it's rarely regulated by the Dominion. In fact, why didn't they move their stronghold to Deadman's Rock?"

"Maybe it's symbolic," suggested Nova, distractedly. "Listen Jimmy, about before..."

"I knew you wouldn't go," he said suddenly.

"How?" she asked quietly. "How'd you know I'd even try to leave? Even I didn't know..."

"Because...because you're not a Mengsk, not in any way that matters," he assured her.

Nova let a small smile grace her face. Jimmy's words were brief yet carried more weight than a thousand words. She wasn't a Mengsk. She was Nova Terra.

"Now, if you can, get into Manchester's head. The Old Families returned to Tarsonis. I want to find out why."

Nova nodded and began concentrating. It was a surreal experience whose magic, thrill and danger never eluded her nor died with time. Channelling her psionic energy, she began unravelling layers of non-important information from Manchester. It was mostly hate filled condescension and Nova wasn't sure she had invaded a mind this meddled before. She worked, patiently as any person would. She was getting close; she had an inkling for these kind of things. And then, she found it. It burned into her memory, and created emotions from within that Nova was unaware she had. Her eyes narrowed as she directed her eyes towards Manchester, the scheming felon who was now the source of her vengeance.

Manchester caught her glare and it dawned upon him that their truth had been discovered. "Shit," he cursed.

OOO

The captain of the Hyperion hadn't removed himself from his station. With the screen lighting his face, his eyes strained as they analyzed the information before him. An uncharacteristic look stretched across his face and for all his youth, Matt Horner looked as old as any other. Wearied by all that had and would soon happen, the captain began to feel the toll it was taking. It was...draining. The screen shot up with numbers and periods between them. A small level of excitement made his heart jump. It was the perfect situation. The scene was set. The wheels could be set into motion. All he needed was men, men who would operate without question and with the upmost ability. He needed men that could navigate stars with the experience of a captain and operate a rifle with the precision of marksman. He needed men that their new found ally would disapprove of. And although it pained Horner to admit it, he needed the ghosts.

"You wanted to see me?" asked General Warfield entering the room. "The Rector of Kel-Moria just arrived and Swann just reported a green light on all Cruiser engines so we got to make this quick."

"General," greeted Horner. "We both know that I'm uncomfortable with this meeting so let's get down to business."

Warfield was keen enough to wait for Horner to explain further.

"The Umojan Minister has granted the release of all recent reports of the Network to us. Though I guess I don't need to tell you about this. You know the Dominion inside and out right General?"

"I guess," said the now suspicious General.

"Then you know what it would take to successfully insert a ghost team to Korhal III."

There was a pause. "Horner, what the hell is this about?"

Horner leaned in closely. "Every sector standard year, the 12 Dominion Systemic Chancellors hold a meeting where the 12 convene alone without the Emperor which means without Imperial security. The meetings are chosen at random. This year, Dylar III has been secretly chosen to host the Convention of the Chancellors. I need a strike team there, and I need it fast."

The General frowned. "You want to make a move on the 12?"

"These are evil people, General," argued Horner, immediately. "They abused everyone they've been in contact with and have evaded the just punishment they deserve. They've caused thousands of deaths and hundreds of imprisonments. They endorsed the exploitations of millions and even when we went to get them, they still got away. We can't wait, General. It's time we finished what we started. We have to take out the 12!"

Warfield looked concerned. "Horner...what the hell is going on? The Chancellors hold no real power and eliminating them would be using up valuable resources. Their assassination won't help us at all! It will just be a waste of time and effort! Why in the world would you go after the 12?"

"You know who they really are," spoke Matt quietly. "I can't let them live. They need to be brought to justice and you're going to help me do that."

"I'm afraid not. Even disregarding the fact that it's a pointless endeavour, Korhal III is infamous for its planet-wide sweeps. Militarily, it's weak, but there's no way you could place a covert team on Korhal III without the Dominion knowing. Look at the Umojans! They were able to place operatives so close in Augustgrad undetected yet they could never to the same to Korhal III. Inserting a covert team would never work."

"Then...then we authenticate an airstrike," reasoned Horner, desperately. "We can have a couple cruisers run interference while we send in some Banshees for airstrikes on the building."

"Have you lost your mind?" asked Warfield, loudly. "That planet's right next to the capital! We wouldn't get within a hundred clicks of that place with a couple cruisers. And you know how accurate air assaults are. We'd end up killing dozens of people just to get to the Chancellors. I left the Dominion because I was tired of that. Don't start telling me you endorse it too."

"Damn it, General," yelled Horner. "These fiends live under government protection all the time! They've committed more crimes than even Mengsk has! We're not letting them go, not again!"

"This is about Tarsonis isn't it? It's about you trying to justify that attack! Pull yourself together, Horner! What kind of commander are you? Who in the hell orders his men into danger because of a petty vendetta? This is the real world son! People don't get what they deserve! Sometimes you gotta settle for less!"

Matt stared straight into Warfield's eyes. "Dispatch the cruisers."

"No."

"Dispatch the-"

"NO!" roared the general at last. "In the absence of Raynor, your men expect you to lead them against the Dominion! That's your goal! That's your directive! Not trying to make yourself feel better about Tarsonis! Now I'm making sure that nothing happens until you sort things out."

He stood up and held on to the doorway frame for a moment. Swivelling his muscular neck, he glanced back at the confused young Captain.

"When you figure it out let us know. We're waiting on you."

Horner was lost. He was out in a vacuum, tumbling through space with no gravitational pull, nothing to anchor him, nothing to save him. He had to save himself now. As the captain stared blankly at the wall, he was reminded of all that he stood for. The confusion set it quickly. When did he become the one who needed reminder on their revolution? When did he become the Raynor of old?

OOO

"I know," announced Nova loudly both to the Old Families and to Raynor and Kerrigan who had just returned.

"There is a vault, deep beneath this building," declared Nova, fiercely. "In this vault, notable members of the Old Family consolidated their funds into this vault. When Tarsonis fell, the Dominion made it one of their priorities to search the rubble for the vault. Soon, search parties began disappearing but the Dominion stopped caring. The Faravays, Moores and the Dukes took their portion when they left for the Dominion Chancellorship. Even so, the net sum of the vault is still valued over 40 billion. It was thought to be lost or destroyed after the attack or even stolen. There's only one reason the Old Families came back."

"The vault is still here."

There was wide silence amongst the group. One group attempted to contemplate the unfathomable nature of such a large sum of money in one place. The other was uprooted in terror at the thought of losing their fortunes to these degenerates.

"So you figured it out," brushed off Manchester. "Great, you going to scurry back to Mengsk and report it like the dog you are?"

He was viciously thrown back. Raynor and Kerrigan looked to Nova whose hair was still flying in the air from the blast of inertia she launched. She spoke with a confidence that neither of the pair had ever heard. Her tone was dominant, and her diction was simple and intimidating beyond belief.

"I am NOT a Mengsk!" she shouted. Her voice rang echoes around them. "I am not the heir to the Dominion throne. I am a Terra! And I am the sole heir to my family's fortune. So to put it simply, gentlemen, I want my 15 billion and I want it now."

The women of the Elias family stood up, her face marked with bruises as much as rage. "Go to hell."

"You don't know the meaning of the word," whispered Nova. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."

No sooner had a voice been raised in protest before Nova had quelled it once more with vicious language and attacking verbose quirks. Raynor and Kerrigan shared a glance. Nova was not her father, but she did share his commanding nature. The situation kept up for a few minutes. All the while, Nova became stronger and the Old Families shrunk. Finally, it broke.

"Christ!" muttered the member of the Reno family. "Just give her the money! It's hers by right and we couldn't stop her even if we tried."

Only Manchester was still opposed but the rest of them held consensus. With silent words, the Old Families signalled defeat and beckoned Nova, Raynor and Kerrigan to follow them, the latter in shock. Nova had shouted down the Old Families.

The corridor was narrow and made of stone. The dim lights barely illuminated anything as all parties groped for footing and position. Eventually, they made their way to a sub level. A steel vault, like the one Nova had seen, stood before them and presented an impasse. Neither party moved.

Nova signalled to Manchester. "Go on, open it."

Manchester fumed. "You've read my mind already. You put in the code yourself."

Nova reached out and pulled Manchester close by his collar. He reeked of ostentatious fumes and it sent nasty signals to Nova's senses. She never broke eye contact.

"I know how to open it," she spoke. "And I don't need you to open it for me. But I'm telling you to open it because all of you idiots seem to fail to grasp a concept which I want to embed into your minds for the rest of your lives. What is it?"

Nova shoved Manchester to the steel vault. A number pad, retina scan and blood sample were amongst other elaborate security measures. He turned back towards Nova, his face fallen and defeated. He couldn't even bear to withstand her gaze and resolved to stare at the piece of wall behind her.

"What is it?" she asked loudly with a commanding voice that rang through the room.

He swallowed hard. "You're Nova Terra."

"That's right jackass," said the blond ghost. "I'm Nova Terra."

OOO

"General Duke reports a minor system failure in the Caesar," read Valerian to his father. "It's not serious but since that's the ship containing the Hybrid, he's going to set it down in Brontes II just for safe measure. As per your orders, he's relieved the Second Fleet from his unit. They are positioning themselves around the Brontes system."

"Good," replied the Emperor. "I'm sure that the Kel-Morians will try and attack again. But they aren't foolish enough to take on Korhal again. The only thing separating Dominion and Kel-Morian space is the Brontes Traverse. If they try and take the Traverse, I want our boys to be there to slam the door on them. What about our situation with Umoja?"

"Well...we're still gathering agents every day," spoke Valerian quietly. "They penetrated almost every layer of our infrastructure. The extradition orders have gone out but it doesn't matter. The Umojans will never extradite one of their own and the Ruling Council will delete the subpoenas before even reading them. The first batch arrived at New Folsom yesterday. I...I placed them in a provisional containment room."

"What?" snapped Mengsk. He turned round to face his hesitant son. "I thought I had made my intentions clear enough. Gas em'."

"But we...I...I can't!" protested Valerian finally. "Let's just lock them up at Castanar or something! They must have some detention facilities besides New Folsom."

Arcturus' eyes flashed dangerously. "Did I hear that correctly? You want to detain them in Castanar thus costing us even more money to transport and to keep them when a perfectly viable way of proceeding is an order away?"

"We can't kill them!" exclaimed Valerian. "There must be laws against that!"

"I am the law!" bellowed Mengsk. His outburst certainly overpowered his son's. "I rule by decree, not under some petty dribble written by degenerate lawmakers. These spies have wilfully engaged in sedition and terrorism against us! And you want me to give them compassion? You want me to go soft on people who would see us burn?"

"They...but they helped the Sons of Korhal," whispered the Prince meekly.

"And they helped the Raiders and probably every other god forsaken anti-establishment group," growled the Emperor. "The past is the past. That most certainly applies to you. Are we going to have a problem?"

Valerian shrunk. "No."

"Good. Make it quick."

OOO

Raynor just remembered the conversation with Matt he had had earlier before they were taken captive. It seemed strangely satisfying. They had found their money. They had found their ticket into the Core Worlds.

"Alright Miss _Terra_," snarled Elias. "You got what you came for. Now take it and go."

"I ought to shoot you all dead for the crimes you committed," spoke Nova steadily. "Every one of you is someone whose death would make this universe just a little better. But it's not up to me. And even your pitiful lives are worth more than satisfying a feud."

"Then are we done?"

Raynor gave them a sombre look. "Not by a long shot."

* * *

**Author's Note: Just as a heads up, I will most likely be changing the story title to: Flight to Freedom. Unless there is mass objection, it will be changed with the next update. Thanks.**


	37. Chapter 37

In silence, Hierarch Artanis roamed the empty halls of the First Tower of Khas. It was scarred and war-torn. Its battered structure held little regard for the gleam and glimmer of the rest of Antioch, who wasted no time in rebuilding their golden glory in a harmonious fire of unity. This building stood as a reminder of the liberation of Aiur. 4 years it had been since the zerg claimed ownership of their beloved home world. This building was to make sure no Protoss ever forgot it.

The Hierarch seldom wore the ornate headpiece. It weighed heavy on his mind and his soul. As per his orders, the power was not restore to this building. The bright Aiur sun had become distasteful to him so he made his way into the shadows. Artanis had spent a great deal of time in this isolated building. Were it not for a unifying sense of restoration, Artanis was certain he would have most certainly been deposed already. His shield stood raised as the attacks begun shortly after dealing with the Civil Council. It stood battered and worn, much like the Tower of Khas. The difference was large though. The Tower of Khas had been built on foundations of a true hero. Artanis could not consider himself of that status. His grounds were fragile and he did not know if he had the strength to endure much more. The Protoss people were dutifully unified. Artanis only wished it was for some reason other than discontent towards him.

When the Aeon of Strife had ended, the Protoss created an immense rift on their southern continent. It marked the land as one of impurity and one of unrelenting striving. It was the reminder that the Protoss had been built as much on conflict as unity. All Protoss who wished to be true, visited that site. It was said that the knowledge of their race and of the universe rested in the deep chasms of the rift. The Hierarch would have gladly thrown himself willingly into the darkness if he could only acquire the knowledge he so desperately needed. But Artanis knew the dangers of the dark. He had already gone further than most but he could progress no longer. Yet nor could he return to the light.

He was the twilight.

"Hierarch, you requested my presence?" spoke a voice in his head.

The only Preserver on Aiur emerged, warily fumbling through the darkness to ascertain Artanis' position.

"Yes," said the Hierarch. "You are aware of what has happened in the past?"

"It is my prerogative," replied the Preserver, simply.

"And through the past, you have gained foresight into the future," continued Artanis. "I care not for your misgivings of what I will say, Preserver. I will say it nonetheless and for the sake of the Protoss, you shall abide. We face a threat far larger than the zerg. It is not something we have ever encountered before. Yet it is not something unfamiliar to us. For millennia, we have adored them, revered them and yet now, we face oblivion at the hands of those we worshipped from before."

"You speak of the Gods," discerned the Preserver with solemn reserve. "Mysteries in life, enigmas in death. But I must disappoint you Hierarch. The Xel'Naga are beyond us all. Whatever powers have been given to me, can't even begin to comprehend them. I have lived a thousand years with steadfast dedication and centuries of solitude yet still, my knowledge of our forefathers stands as a lowly tree amidst the forest of our history."

"That is why I am calling not only upon you, but upon all," finished the Hierarch.

"Hierarch," gasped the Preserver, clearly taken aback. "There has not been a gathering of Preservers in...in fact there has never been a gathering of Preservers."

"Then I shall be the first to do so," spoke the Protoss leader, firmly. "To continue as a species, I must acquire the knowledge of the Preservers and of the Xel'Naga. We will consolidate our wisdom from Aiur, Zhakul, Shakuras, Haven and all other worlds that we call our own. It is time for this obscurity to be gone. Too long have we waited for the powers of fate to vanquish this enigmatic persona. The responsibility falls to us. And we will not fail. Send the word. I will bring the Xel'Naga back into the light."

OOO

"Let me remind you, Rector!" spoke General Warfield, loudly. "We were the ones who advised you not to dive head first into the Korhal Cluster. You ignored us and proceeded according to your original plan. This was in no way our fault!"

"Hot-headed Kel-Morians," muttered Minister Ducos. "Why do you even bother?"

"You keep your damned mouth shut!" roared Rector Sieyes. "We should have obliterated Umoja back when we had a chance in the Guild Wars. You're more to blame for this whole situation than anyone!"

"Take it easy," warned Captain Horner.

The door hissed open loudly and then trotting sound of steel boots marked the sound with an imminent approach. Three figures walked in, all as serious as any other party.

"Glad you boys got acquainted while I was gone," remarked Raynor as he took a position next to Matt. The Captain made to question his commander, but decided it could wait until this meeting had finished. "Sorry for the wait, but I'm here now."

"Kept us waiting long enough," growled the Kel-Morian Combine leader.

"As did you," retaliated Raynor, strongly. "And don't forget, we did not call this meeting, you did."

All parties in the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. If someone had told any of the people in the room that they'd be in this current situation, they'd all have laughed it off. But there was no laughing to be had now. The situation was direr than one could possibly fathom. At any other point, these parties would all be at odds with each other. In fact, they very much still were. There was only one thing uniting them to a single cause: The Dominion. And as each contemplated this, they found it necessary in the deep chasms of their minds to relegate their contempt and heed the call.

"The time for small incursions and trivial raids is over," declared the commander. "This is a full-scale war and we must muster up a force to fight it. Mengsk has pushed us to the brink and unless we want to be destroyed, we must respond accordingly. All your petty loathing of one another and all your factional disputes are meaningless. If we don't do something, the Dominion will annex the entire Sector and at that point, we won't be able to stop him. The time to act is now."

"We've identified several targets to strike," briefed Matt Horner, bringing up a tactical screen of the Sector. "We know that Mira Han is guarding the Korhal cluster. We know from firsthand experience how deadly she is. Given that her forces will already be a handful, the second we make our move into Korhal, an alarm will be sent to the Dylarian Shipyards. They can amass a reaction force within minutes."

"Then there is only one choice," concluded Rector Sieyes. "We hit the Dylarian Shipyards."

"It's not going to be easy," warned the General. "Dylar is the military might of the Dominion. They have a surplus of half the armada at any given time. We'll lose a lot of ships and a lot of people."

"What do you have to say?" asked the commander towards the Umojan leader. "Even with your Network down, you must have known many things about the Dominion."

"Many things? We knew _everything_," said Minister Ducos. "We had teams in place to respond immediately if the Dominion made a move on us. Our targets were meticulously chosen to best impact the Dominion."

"What types of targets?" asked Raynor, intrigued.

"The energy," responded Minister Ducos simply. "The Dominion is hugely reliant upon Vespene gas. If you take out their supply of energy, the Dominion will surely begin to feel its effects. By far, the largest exporter of Vespene Gas is Brontes IV. Put a strain on the Vespene supply and you put a strain on the Dominion and its military capacity."

"You're forgetting that the Brontes system is gigantic," sighed Warfield. "I know the Dominion military protocols inside and out. They can secure the Traverse within hours. We'd never be able to hold the system with conventional forces."

"Then we stick to Dylar," resolved Raynor. "Gentlemen, if we are to proceed in this undertaking, I need your fully fledged support and not simply a regiment of a 100 men. I want your entire military support including every ship, tank, soldier and even SCV that you got. Though I don't think I need to ask for it."

They all agreed silently. The Kel-Morians knew that they were in a weak military position after the failed attack. The Umojans knew that they were simply too poor to effectively finance any more operations. The motives however, didn't concern Raynor at the moment. Their cause was one and their drive would be fierce.

For they were not righteous men. They were desperate men. And desperation unlocked the faculty for anything.

"We have still avoided talking of Braxis," piped up Nova. "I could slip in undetected and help get you boys groundside without withstanding Braxan firepower."

"Not on Braxis, honey," brushed off Minister Ducos. "You must have not been stationed at Braxis after the Brood War. They are paranoid. Every flake of snow on their earth is accompanied by a Spider mind. They are under full Martial Law at all times and can detect any intrusion into the DMZ. Believe me when I say, Braxis is impregnable. If you wish to sabotage, it is Dylar that stands the best chance."

"Chance," repeated Horner, bitterly. "Even after everything we've done, it could all be decided by chance. "

"That's the way the game works," sighed Raynor. "We can't take the Dylarian Shipyards head on. We'll need diversionary attacks to start off. Then, we'll need inside information and preliminary agents on sight. And then there's the matter of what we do next."

"We planned for that," responded General Warfield, grinning. "Dominion ships are at their lowest guard during while first leaving the Shipyards. If we can lure them out to drop their guard, we'll have the advantage easily. As far as what comes after, we are all men of battle. We know when something can be done and when something can't. Even if by some miraculous chance, we take the Shipyards, we don't stand a chance in hell of holding it. The best we can do is to destroy the whole station complex. It's not the preferable method, I know, but at least it'll take a piece off Mengsk board."

"And how exactly do you plan on destroying the Shipyards when our forces will already be weakened by the initial assault and while the Dominion response fleet breathes down your necks?" demanded Rector Sieyes.

"An EMP!" said Kerrigan, suddenly. "We have the resources. If we can plant one in the center of the Dylarian Shipyards, the Dominion can kiss their military powerhouse good bye."

"Then we are all agreed," concluded Raynor, standing up to meet the leaders. "To the ends of the Dominion's downfall, we will stand together. Umojans, Kel-Morians and all others who believe that the cause of freedom is one worth dying for, will fly under one directive and towards one goal. Send word through the appropriate channels. We will mass our forces outside the Dylar system in preparation for immediate assault. We have our wings, gentlemen. It is time for the flight."

The people felt it within the depths of their guts. It was an inspiring and terrible feeling. It had let them down again and again and they had all vowed never to share it again, yet here they stood, renewed with hope, revitalized with vigour and determined to see that their liberty would soar over the ashes of the Dominion.

"One thing, though," said Raynor slowly. "I do trust all of you implicitly. I don't believe anyone in this room would cross me for Mengsk, but I need a private word with some. Rector Sieyes, Minister Ducos, please follow me."

Raynor beckoned to another room. The General and Captain looked at him questioningly, but did not press the issue. The leaders proceeded into the room. Raynor then looked over to the ghost.

"You better come too," he called.

Kerrigan moved forward.

"Not you, Sarah," interrupted Raynor. "I was talking to Nova."

OOO

They paced and paced, sometimes in silence, sometimes in annoying sounds of concentration. But for all their thought, there was still no plan. Donny Vermillion had previously thought in bed, and then near the kitchen counter. Now he had chosen a comfy armchair next to the fire to think. Kate Lockwell had taken a break. Instead she continued to delve into the dark past of Emperor Arcturus Mengsk. The Manifesto was truly a god sent item. The maliciousness of Arcturus resonated with a pang to the consciousness of both Lockwell and Vermillion. They had been played with ease. With every new piece of information that condemned Mengsk, the two former lead anchors for the UNN vowed to see him pay for it. There was but one problem.

"What about the refugee ships?" asked Donny, suddenly.

"Great," chuckled Kate in sarcasm. "You want to spread the word to emaciated colonists? That's not exactly the impact or the target demographic we were looking to appeal to."

"No, no, no no," dismissed the moustached man. "We need to get this to the public. And there's almost no chance we can do it on Korhal. But what if we could get it to satellite systems? Think about it! Another batch of refugee ships arrived from Deadman's Rock. The Dominion is going to surely turn them away. If we could stow aboard, we could escape Korhal without Mengsk even knowing!"

"And how do you propose we do that?" demanded the other, with hands on her hips. "We're the two most wanted criminals on Korhal IV! We can't throw a rock and miss a wanted poster of us! Hell, it's dangerous enough that you have to go out to get food every once in a while. Even those curtains back there have to remain closed at all times or else we'll see Mengsk's stony face bearing down on us. Mengsk will have anticipated that. Not only that, but if you think we'll be able to stow aboard a ship full of real criminals unharmed, then you might be delusional."

"Well what then!" exclaimed Donny, throwing his beverage to the floor. "We've been here for weeks, pent up in my Metalopolis apartment! They'll find us eventually Kate! We can't just sit here and think. Sooner or later, we're going to have to act!"

"It's not that easy!" retorted the younger reporter. "We're sitting on the most vital piece of information that this Sector has ever seen. The problem is, we have no way of distributing it to the public! What good are all these skeletons if the people with real power don't know about them? Donny, lets face it, we're stuck on Korhal IV. There's no way we're getting off it. So we have to think of a way to distribute the message from this planet! There's no other way."

"What you're suggesting is impossible," sighed a frustrated man. "How the hell are we going to transmit an anti-Dominion message to the entire Sector from the capital? No one's ever done that!"

"Raynor has," Lockwell said slowly.

OOO

The Kel-Morian Rector had returned to his ship. They were all making preparations for takeoff. Rory Swann had ensured that all systems were green. The deafening sound of the Minotaur Class engines blared like no other and the welcoming sound of powered ships graced the ears of James Raynor and Minister Roger Ducos who walked side by side in solemn exchange.

Raynor spoke in a hushed voice. "What you said earlier, about the Vespene...is it true? Will a Vespene shortage cripple the Dominion?"

"Look who you're talking to," responded the proud Minister. "Umojan blood is one of data and information. We already had plans. We were to sabotage refineries around the planet and blow them straight to hell. Unfortunately, our agents were revealed and that plan has gone cold, but the target remains nonetheless. Brontes IV has is a target ripe for the taking."

They stopped talking as they heard footsteps echoing from beyond the corner of the narrow steel hallway. Relief came when it the instigator appeared. Captain Matthew Horner marched forward with determination.

"Done with your little meeting?" he asked, candidly.

"Sorry Matt," spoke Raynor. "I'm playing my cards close to the chest right now. Don't worry. It has nothing to do with military tactics or whatnot. Don't let it concern you at the moment. Once again, we have to focus on war."

"Alright," resolved the captain. "I overheard you two speaking of Vespene. I thought Warfield ruled that out already."

"Well...he was right," said Raynor, slowly. "The best way to disrupt the flow of Vespene would be to have saboteurs on the ground. But Mengsk has made it his damned mission to lock up all the Umojans he finds so that's out of the picture. And Warfield's right. We wouldn't be able to hold on to the Brontes System with conventional forces."

"So what are you saying?"

"Matt, I didn't just disappear off into New Gettysburg," admitted the Commander.

"I figured as much."

"We were captured. First we thought it was the remnants of the UED, and then we realized that it wasn't foreign culprits. We were taken hostage by the Old Families."

Horner stiffened up. The Umojan Minister had suggested as much, but now it was concrete. Matt could no longer deny it. The Old Families were alive, and on Tarsonis, and had taken his commanding officer hostage. He remedied his rage as he let Raynor continue to speak.

"They came back because of the vault," pressed the Commander. "You should have seen it Matt, there were billions of credits. Nova said around 40. Nova took her share which would generously be able to fund our operation for a decade, not that it will take that long."

Raynor and Matt spoke face to face. What they didn't see was the Minister who had been keenly listening in, with circumspect eyes and desirable intent. They didn't see his palms sweat nor his eyes and ears creep towards the conversation with vast intrigue.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Matt, again.

Raynor wanted to temper what he had to say as much as possible. He spoke quietly. "Matt, we can't halt the flow of Vespene with conventional forces."

Raynor looked at Horner before he continued. "The Old Families are not conventional forces."

Matthew Horner didn't know exactly what he was feeling. Was it disappointment? Was it the hardship of inevitability? Was it a raw ambition fuelled desire? Horner thought back to the days where things were decidedly less complicated. There was the enemy: the Confederacy. It stood for the evil of the world and the cruelties of humanity that the Sons of Korhal wished to erase. Arcturus Mengsk was the one who would deliver them to that promised future. And now look where they were. Matt closed his eyes, for a single second and in the blackness of his eyelids, he envisioned every deal that Raynor had made. He had compromised with the mercenaries, the pirates, the slave-owning Kel-Morians, his wife, and now the Old Families which formed the basis of the new Koprulu Crime Syndicate. He could feel the pillars within the depths of his body begin to wane. The weight had tripled and his support groaned in protest. His moral principles, his idealism, it was at the brink.

With a quivering lip, Matt looked up to his commander. Raynor looked at him with a concerned fashion. Next, Horner's eyes slipped to the Umojan Minister who was watching him intently, equally as concerned, though he would never show it. Those eyes. They locked once again with Horner's and he wondered if this intensity was the product of something larger. Was there a larger picture to be had? Or was justice the picture itself?

"Do it," he whispered.

"You know what this means, right," repeated Jim, cautiously. "I'm going to use the Old Family controlled criminals and pirates to seize Vespene shipments from Brontes IV. I'm going to make a deal with them. I just thought...well..."

"Do it," he whispered again.

"It's not what you hoped for," admitted Jim.

"No," replied Horner, softly. "It's not what I hoped for. But it's better than what we've got. For now, that has to be enough."

Behind Raynor, the Umojan Minister nodded approvingly. Matt gave off a small and sad smile. It was not the ideal. And it wasn't perfect. But it was a start.

"Using the crime syndicate will prove to be a wise choice," spoke the Minister, bringing himself back into the conversation. "Trust me, when we halt the flow of Vespene, the Dominion will be on its last leg. Maybe then, Mengsk will know how it feels to have an entire nation suffer an unstoppable force of desperation and misery."

Raynor was slightly taken aback. To his knowledge, the Minister had not displayed this amount of emotion. Were he a more curious man, he would have asked himself if there was truly a sadistic underlying motive to the Umojan support.

"Are things that bad?"

"My people are selling their kids to Kel-Morian slavers," snapped the Minister. "They're killing each other for loaves of bread. They're leaving in droves for the better future. And when that better future is Dead Man's Port, you know that we've hit rock bottom."

"You didn't see this coming?" asked Matt, doubtfully.

"We anticipated nearly everything," defended Minister Ducos. "Attacking the Network was one thing. Attacking our finances was something that we overlooked. And we paid the price. If only we had a warning. Years of planning, even more of infiltration and significant manpower and resources all lost in one fell swoop, the least of which being the Emperor team. Damn it, I never should have trusted that boy!"

"What boy?" demanded Raynor.

"We had a team," started the Minister of Umoja. "It had taken 3 years of planning, but we had successfully been able to plant them in the heart of the Dominion."

"Korhal?"

"Closer."

"Augustgrad?"

"Closer."

"...the throne?" asked Horner, timidly.

"It was a team of five operatives," continued Minister Ducos. "They were as close as brothers. They were easily the most trusted team in the Network. None of them would have betrayed one another, for any price...or so we thought. It was our fifth member, our ace in the hole that turned out to be our curse. It was after the closing of the Kel-Morian Embassy in Augustgrad. Mengsk had ordered yet another one of our holdings to be annexed – that was the third in one year. The Dominion was coming. That was conclusive. It didn't matter when or where. We knew they would act. So we had to act first."

"But?"

"We were betrayed," muttered the Minister. "The assassination of Mengsk was supposed to be clean, efficient and deadly. Instead, three agents ended up dead, the fourth was forced to go into hiding and Mengsk survived without injury. How Fars managed to survive that long and in a public office, no less, is still baffling. It was the boy's fault. The fifth betrayed us to the Dominion in a way that we should have expected. He played us good and he did the same to you."

"We've never met your fifth rogue agent. We don't even know him," inquired the Commander.

"Yes you do. And yes you have. The whole Sector knows him."

"Who is he?"

The Minister spoke with a passionate hatred, one so fuelled with rage that if it could manifest physically, it would spell disaster for them all. He spat out the words as if they were dirt to his tongue.

"Valerian Mengsk."

* * *

**Author's Note: Betcha' didn't see that one coming.**


	38. Chapter 38

**2 years ago**

It was another one of those nights. Valerian was sitting across from his father in equally plump armchairs. A roasting fire lit the room with smoke that the young Prince found unappealing. It seemed though, that Arcturus bathed in it, soaking it in. The bright flames dashed across the reflective pupil of the Emperor giving him a persona even more intimidating than it already was. There was only the crackling of the fire. It was hot. Valerian was sweating. He hated this man. Why intentionally make him uncomfortable?

"How...how do you like Augustgrad?" asked the Emperor. "The city is ours, you know – in every possible way."

"It's fine," replied a stiff and wary Valerian. "Named after my great-grandfather, built by my grandfather, restored and ruled by my father and now house to me."

The Emperor nodded, approvingly. They fell back into silence.

"Did the Dominion's artifact team please you?" he asked.

"Yeah," was the reply. "It's a little small for an archaeological operation for the entire Dominion, but they know what they're doing."

Valerian was burning up on the inside and out. His guts were twisting with anxiety. He and his father were in the same room together. He had dreamt of this moment. The pair would share a reunion worthy of all the years separated. They would jest of battle prowess and women. They would be father and son. Yet now, as his dream had been granted, Valerian had nothing to say to his father.

"Remember your purpose," spoke a voice within Valerian's head.

It was true. This dissociation with his father was troublesome. He wanted to become close to him for reasons less than sincere. It had been a month already. Every other night they would meet in a room lit with the flames of Korhal. They would sit and they would talk...or try to talk. Every discussion was like this one – brief and uncomfortable. Valerian drew his eyes to his father's face once more. It was thinking of something to speak of. Valerian didn't like this man. His dreams had fooled him. There was only a bigot sitting in the chair, one that would serve to fulfill Valerian's purpose. Valerian would fulfill his purpose. He was going to kill this man for the Minister and for the Protectorate.

The distance did not grow over the many months. In fact, Valerian was proud of the fact that it had shortened, even if only a little. Valerian would spend the day learning of history, military tactics and most importantly, the rules of oppression. His father had written the book on that one. He had once hated Korhal IV when he came here. It was filled with busy bodies ignorant of the constant vigilance set upon them. There were Dominion spies, Umojan spies, maybe even an odd Kel-Morian spy in the mix but no one was free from the totalitarian surveillance. He admitted now, though, he had begun to warm up to the city, slightly. There was no shortage of things to do, or people to meet. Korhal IV was vast and so was the capital. It grossed almost 7% of Korhal IV's landmass. One day, Valerian had overheard Mengsk's plan to expand Augustgrad over the whole planet. He was obsessed over the fact that Korhal belonged to the Mengks. And Valerian supposed it did. Its foundations were of Mengsks. And when it was destroyed, it was a Mengsk who had rebuilt it.

Valerian was becoming increasingly distracted. There were no luxuries of pleasure and distraction that could divert his attention in Umoja. He loved that world, but it was dull and utilitarian. Augustgrad was fresh and ripe with potential. It was bustling with an energy far above that of Umoja. What an odd anomaly that such a repressed state would be more vibrant than a free one. Valerian admitted one thing: his father had done something right.

From his chambers, Valerian looked down upon the other spires of Augustgrad. A building close to him was the target of his focused gaze. A small white light appeared in one of the building's windows. It was faint and blended in well with the bright reflection of light that the building produced. One could only see it if he was truly looking. But Valerian had seen it once again, like so many other times. He drew his notebook and began writing. The flashes went from brief to long with several rests in between. With methodical precision, Valerian marked them on his notebook.

He had made contact again. They were getting restless apparently. They were only supposed to contact once every two weeks. This was the second time this week that they were relaying a message him. Valerian liked to imagine that the rest of the team was sitting behind the glass of that building, watching and protecting his every move. That's certainly what the Minister had suggested when Valerian was chosen for this mission. And as the Minister always was, he was convincing and he was intense. It would never have crossed Valerian's mind to turn down the commanding figure. Valerian had foolishly believed that he and the rest of the team would be deployed together for a month at most to complete their objective quickly. In and out. That's what Fars had always said. But now, his team was far away and he was all by his lonesome with the most dangerous man he had ever met: his father.

_ "Remember your purpose!" barked the Minister. The exchange replayed in Valerian's head with accurate clarity. "You have all been handpicked for this mission. Believe me when I say, this is perhaps the most important mission that the Protectorate has and ever will fund. You will be tested. All your training, all your endurance will be challenged. This mission is greater than all of you. It's greater than all of us in fact. Should you fail, the Protectorate will reap the consequences and believe me, the consequences will be nasty."_

_ Valerian was stirred with pride. He enjoyed the Minister's company. Every time he spoke, it was like a firm palm slamming on the membrane of Valerian's purpose. It pounded out an irresistible rhythm that beckoned Valerian to dance with it. He was once a lost sheep to his late mother's dismay. She had always said: Become your own man._

_ Valerian hated to disappoint her. He had been doing it all his life, but he couldn't be as his mother wanted. She used to ramble on about how it was his father's fault for leaving him. He had developed indecisiveness and hesitancy. He was weak willed and easily controllable by those with enough of a commanding nature. Valerian admired what he could not have. And he followed._

_ "Stand up for yourself!" she had said. "You've got to grow up, Valerian. You know I love you but sometimes I wonder if your will is too weak. You can't follow anymore. Manhood is more than years lived. You've got to become your own man."_

_ The debriefing of the Minister continued and brought Valerian back into the present, one that filled him with a sense of anticipation and ambition. The past was riddled with frustration, pain...death._

_ "We're dropping you straight into the heart of the Dominion. No more Brontes and no more Tyrador. You're headed for Korhal. In fact, you're headed for the capital, Augustgrad."_

_ Valerian's eyes widened as did those of the rest of the team. No agent had ever been able to get that close to the Dominion. The attempted endeavours were marked with a bloody trail of failures. Would they turn out the same way? Valerian felt all eyes turn to him. He knew why he'd been picked. He knew why this wouldn't be like all the other attempts._

_ "Valerian," said the Minister, strongly as ever. "It is your time to prove yourself. The Dominion is volatile alongside its leader. It's a loose cannon with a trigger happy commander. It's a powder keg with a very short fuse. One of these days, it will erupt. We have a greater duty to the Sector to stop it. Your mother's death will have reached the ears of the Emperor by now. He will try and bring you to Korhal. Do not resist. The team will be watching your every move. You'll be safe and protected."_

_ The rest of the team nodded loyally at Valerian, making him feel slightly better._

_ "There is no immediate threat," sighed the Minister. "Don't worry too much, Valerian. You're to be placed as sleeper agents in Augustgrad. Nothing will happen unless we deem in necessary to activate you. It's a new world out there, Valerian. You will be in the constant presence of the Emperor. Learn from him, study him and when the time inevitably comes, help us kill him."_

_ Valerian offered no protest._

_ "I know what you initially are thinking," spoke the Minister. He always knew. "And I'm going to tell you to forget about any paternal ties you think you might rekindle. He abandoned you and forgot about you. Don't let any petty hopes stray you from your goal, Valerian. Look at me. You. Will. Kill. Arcturus. Mengsk."_

_ Valerian had never been more convinced than by this man, whose words pounded furious beats that synced with his racing heart. He would kill Arcturus Mengsk._

Valerian's translation of Morse code was quick as ever, as he had to learn fast. The message was brief, as were all of them. Valerian finished his translation. He stared at it blankly before it registered properly.

ACTIVE. TOMORROW. NOON. ANGUS SQUARE.

Valerian had not even taken a second glance at the message. He crumpled and burned the paper as any agent would have done. The smoke still irritated his senses, but it was tolerable. Valerian had no qualms. He had no objection. After remembering the Minister, Valerian was spurred on.

He had been activated.

The next day, he sought out his father. The halls of crimson and gold were empty. The library was empty. Valerian proceeded to the Emperor's study, somewhere he had been warned not to enter. The door was shut. He pushed it forth slightly and took a peak. An officer, a fairly high ranking one as it seemed, was speaking to the Emperor.

"Sir, the Braxans aren't letting up," warned the officer. "It's in the middle of their system and you know how xenophobic they are. Perhaps we should listen to them and let them handle it."

"Let them handle it?" exclaimed the Emperor, loudly. "I will not let the Braxans dictate what I can and cannot do within my own realm!"

The shout silenced the officer and echoed across the room. Valerian could feel the very sound waves bouncing across his skin.

"This is the last stronghold of the Confederate Resistance Forces," the Emperor said. "They have been a thorn in our side for nearly 2 years. They've challenged us on every front, sabotaged us any chance they could and they tried to assassinate me when I was visiting my son and his mother! I will not let them live even if I have to go into the Braxis system. I'd even go into the Prime system to see their demise. "

"This is the Dominion!" the Emperor declared with force. "This is a place where we don't give in to stubborn regional pride! This is a place where we crush our enemies instead of letting them slip away to fight another day! This is a place where there is only one ruler! This is the Dominion! So to hell with the Braxans protests! I am the Emperor of the Terran Dominion! Captain Duke, I want you to go into Braxis Alpha with a whole fleet if you have to. I want you to take a regiment of soldiers down to the planet and I want you to wipe out the Confederate Resistance Forces once and for all!"

Valerian was now exhilaratingly scared. This man, his father, carried a great deal of spirit. Perhaps even greater than the Minister.

"Sir."

The Commander exited the room. He paused only for a moment as he saw Valerian on the other side. Being the strict military man, Commander Duke walked past the young prince, already developing the gorilla-esque stature of his late uncle.

Valerian slid into the room, with a bit of fear and a lot of perplexity. His father noticed him and beckoned him close. Valerian abided and could feel the resonance of his father's previous orders. They washed over him like the smoke did so many nights. He smelt it, breathed it and was consumed by it. His father stood up straight, and spoke to him with an incontestable power.

"Is there something you want?" asked his father.

"I-I've been wondering if you'd come with me to Angus Square today," started Valerian as his speech was slowly returning to him. "It's only a few blocks away and it _is_ grandfather's anniversary today. The commemorations are supposed to last all day. We should probably pay our respects."

The Emperor contemplated this and then found the compassion within him to agree. He rose from his seat, still taller than his son, and gestured him out the door with the Emperor following suite. They walked down the long stairs of the Korhal Palace. Its decadent golden steps were marked with the wolf statues which represented the Mengsk Dynasty. Few more blocks, and they were in downtown Augustgrad already. Valerian was sure that there must have been no less than a dozen ghosts following them.

"Every time I walk down these streets," sighed Arcturus. "Every time I walked down roads paved, named and honoured by my ancestors I am reminded, this is mine. This is all mine."

Valerian listened intently.

"This city is my city," declared his father. "More so than Korhal or even the Dominion which was earned through victorious rebellion, this city belongs to the Mengsks. It is ours by birthright, Valerian. We are the inhabitants of Augustgrad. All the other 25 million inhabitants are simply guests. This is ours."

Valerian was unaware of his surroundings. He wasn't leading his father to Angus Square anymore. His father was leading him. He was leading him not only in step but in word. Valerian lingered on every one, keeping pace with one ear to his father's mouth.

"You see, Valerian, this is our capital. This is the Dominion condensed into a single city. Look at it. It is rich and secure. These are things I would surely do anything to maintain. The people may act one way, but they truly know little. It is on our shoulders that the burden falls on. We are the leaders, Valerian. We have been entrusted to lead these people into an age they could not attain on their own. And if I must be forceful, then I must be forceful. But I will not have the Dominion fail! It has taken too much to build. So if I want, I have. And if I need, I receive. And if I am challenged, I raze the fool who does so. There is only one thing keeping this whole operation together, Valerian. It's my word. And my word is the law."

Power poured from his mouth, forming an almost visible aura around Arcturus Mengsk. Valerian could feel the energy. He could feel the force, the sheer willpower of his father. It crushed all else around him. There was only one man in the entire universe that day. And it was Arcturus Mengsk. He spoke with such a commanding authority with disregard with what eavesdroppers might pick up on. This man was dominant. And it was at this particular point that Valerian's respect of the man skyrocketed.

"So this city is in debt to us," finished Arcturus Mengsk. "Everything it is, it owes to us. So if you want to take, you take. And if you want, you will have. So, my son, what do you want?"

The resolve of the Emperor had crushed Valerian's purpose. His stature, his language, his nature...all of it overwhelming Valerian. This man before him was not a simply a target and not simply his father. He was the Emperor of the Terran Dominion. And his will had rawer power than the nukes that levelled this city. Valerian was powerless but it mattered not. He had found a new master.

"You have been hiding something from me," stated the Emperor flatly. "Don't think I haven't noticed. In any other circumstances, you'd already be off to New Folsom with crimes of treason and sedition. But you're my son and moreover a Mengsk. That entitles you to certain...privileges. But if you want to keep those privileges then look me in the eye and tell me what you are hiding. That...is what _I_ want."

"Don't go," blurted out Valerian. "Don't go to Angus Square."

The Emperor's eyes narrow and suspicion blanketed his face. "I thought that's why we came out here."

"Don't go," he repeated. Once again, his father's exertion of power spurred Valerian onwards just as the Minister had once done.

"There are four sharpshooters in adjacent buildings overlooking the Square," warned Valerian. "They're expert marksmen and can line up their shots no matter how blocked their target is. Their target...it's you."

His father stopped cold. His face was indiscernible. "There's only one way you could know this," growled his father. "You were a part of it, weren't you?"

Valerian was again consumed.

"Weren't you?" repeated his father, more forcefully this time.

"Yes," admitted Valerian, instantly. "Yes I was." The look on his father's face suggested that he wanted more. "I was sent by Umojan Minister Ducos alongside four other operatives. We have been in Augustgrad for months. Today, we were activated. I was to escort you to Angus Square where you'd be assassinated. But...but I can't...I won't. The Minister of Umoja doesn't deserve my loyalty anymore."

"Do I?" demanded his father.

Valerian stared him in the eye, his own beginning to pain as if looking to a bright star. His voice was but a whisper to his father's will.

"Absolutely,"

"Good."

The rest of the day was blurry. Valerian had accompanied his father back to the Palace, though not before he had whispered orders to thin air, air which was most likely occupied by a cloaked ghost. Valerian spent the rest of the day with his father, just listening to him talk, to give orders, to be. The news came quickly. 3 of the Umojan agents sent with Valerian had been killed in the firefight. The fourth had escaped, though narrowly so. But that was of no problem. The Umojan would return to the Protectorate, reporting mission failure. The deaths panged Valerian's heart. But that sentiment was immediately crushed as well by his father.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for them," warned Arcturus one day. "They were nothing but cowards hiding in shadow. You were the wise one, Valerian. Remove it from your mind. They all got what they deserved."

Valerian felt reborn. His father's will was intoxicating. It was as precious to Valerian as the very blood coursing through his veins and keeping his strong heart pumping. It was his nourishment and reason. It was his fuel.

It was his purpose.

**Present**

The knock awoke Valerian with a startle. The sun was breaking over the horizon. And as his father suggested, it was necessary for a leader to rise with the sun so to remember its power and rival it equally. Valerian wiped the sweat from his face. It had been another memory, another dream. Brushing his golden locks from his face, he sat up, groggily. At the door was his servant who reported that his father wished to see him immediately. Valerian thought it incomprehensible for his father`s will to be so great as to being present even in a relayed middleman. But Valerian felt it nonetheless. And he would not keep his father waiting.

For a reason defying all logic and predictability, Valerian found himself staring out the window of his chambers. His eyes scanned the city of Augustgrad and rested on a single spot once more. For some reason, his eyes lingered there. Valerian didn't know why but he half expected the window to flash white again.

But it would never again.

* * *

**Author's Note: I've finally gotten Valerian to the point that I am satisfied with. As for the Heart of the Swarm, I have not looked at any news whatsoever regarding the expansion and will continue to resist until this story is finished (which will be before the expansion release, I assure you). This story is to stand on its own while expanding off of Wings of Liberty. It will not tie in to Heart of the Swarm and I won't allow it to influence my writing in any way. Please enjoy and thanks for reading.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. I know it's been a while**

* * *

Valerian marched forward, his steps echoing on the marble halls of the Korhal Palace. He sometimes wondered how many mines were emptied to make this lavish building. Even now, he felt estranged to it. It was grand and vast, so much so that Valerian still did not know its entirety. Ceilings were adorned with all manner of paintings drawn by men whom had been taken under the Mengsk patronage. They were of angels, suns and planets alike as if the universe and God himself looked over Arcturus' reign with divine pride. Valerian was chagrin to this. The United Earth Directorate and his father had little in common, but their hatred of religion was one thing that they shared. Valerian had never paid much attention to it either. Apparently the bible wasn't deemed an important enough text to store in the ATLAS database. There was no longer a doctrine of such the obscure idea of God. It was passed in a whispering legacy through mouths, ears, skies and space. It grazed the Fringe Worlds. Valerian could understand this well. With a life of eternal hardship, it was only human to want to think there was something greater beyond.

Valerian wondered what he would do should he meet God. Would he kneel? Would he himself demand the knee? What would he say? What would he ask? And to all these questions came a bitter answer that stood by Valerian like a lifelong companion: Nothing. He would do nothing. He would be weak, awkward and shy as shy comes. His will would fall short to engage let alone contest with the will of God. If his father spurred him to obedience, what effect would God have on him? It would be nothing short of a euphoric overwhelming if Valerian were to meet this whispered deity, struck from text and old as time. But Valerian wasn't so sure he believed in God. For now, there was but one God. And that god was his father.

Arcturus Mengsk did not turn around to greet his son as the Prince entered. He raised two fingers to beckon his son close to him. The Prince approached timidly, trying to peak over his father's massive frame and observe the screen which commanded his father's attention. Behind him, Valerian's sword frame bobbed up and down with its master's movements. Valerian sighed quietly. The blade was amongst the most precious in the Sector. It was not of cruel metal from the Dylar factories. It was Bel'Shir steel, sleek and elegant, procured back before the Dominion colonial operation there failed. Valerian did not wear it with any delusion that it would be of use. He did it to make himself daunting. He used the blade in the absence of his will. His father had no blade. He didn't need one. Valerian however, refused to leave without it, fearing that someone would call him out on his crippled will, his weakness.

"You called for me?" spoke Valerian.

"Take a look at the screen," replied the Emperor.

Valerian squinted and scarcely could tell what was happening. There was much movement and yelling. A rundown room was being filled with occupants who tumbled over one another as they were violently shoved in. They looked sick, dilapidated and malnourished. They appeared no more to Valerian than living corpses. Eyes sunken with pupils black as starless space, bony arms, legs which could barely support the body, they were a mess. Valerian caught his breath as he saw a few children in the mix. They cried with banshee like screams for food, water and dignity. The door behind them shut. There were over 50 people in that room. Valerian noticed a red marking on the wall behind the people. It was barely visible but Valerian could see a faded red gate.

"This is a holding cell in New Folsom," said Valerian, suddenly. After moments later, he realized another thing he wished he hadn't. "These are the Umojan spies."

"Very good," said Mengsk. "I pulled them out of the petty containment room you stuck them in. I knew you wouldn't do it by yourself."

Valerian's heart was pounding. "Wh...what are you going to do to them?"

Mengsk finally turned around. "What we should have done the second they got there!"

Valerian saw it before even the Umojans did. On the screen it next to invisible but Valerian already knew what he was looking for. More and more of it poured in. The Umojans were beginning to notice. The concentration grew thick into a misty green. Commotion erupted. First came the screams, then the scrambling over one another and finally the desperate pounding on all walls and ground one could reach.

Men cried for their lives. Women cried for their children. Children cried for it all.

Valerian turned away swiftly, his eyes closed and hands squeezed into rigid fists. He made to walk away before a strong arm blocked his path. The Emperor seized him by the collar and threw him back into place with his arm as a safeguard.

"No," he ordered. "You need to see this."

The Emperor always got what he wanted. His son tore his gaze from the floor and back at the scene he so desperately wished was all a dream. He shook slightly. He wanted to do something. He wanted to take his sword and run it through the screen.

The crying stopped.

Arcturus walked back to his desk, already muttering to himself about today's machinations. Valerian however, stood straight, unmoving. He was rooted in place as were his eyes. They rested on the frozen picture the screen had paused on. No one was crying. No one was screaming. Valerian swallowed hard, hoping that the moisture in his eyes would not spill over, hoping that he could still sleep after witnessing such a tragedy. An uncomfortable feeling rose in his throat and he could hardly believe all the corpses once previously living, now dead in front of his eyes. He was at the very least grateful that the bodies of the children were crushed so to remove them from his gaze. He could not bear it.

"What...what the hell was that!" whispered Valerian. "What did you do!"

"I did what was necessary," replied Arcturus.

"That," shouted Valerian, pointing to the screen, "was _not_ necessary!"

"Don't be a fool, boy!" snapped the Emperor loudly. He rose from his desk once more, walking towards Valerian as the Emperor he was. "You think these were innocent civilians? They hoarded our money! They plotted against us! These are the very people you worked with to kill me! This is nothing short of what they deserve! Am I to show mercy to those who tried to murder me? Am I to show compassion to those who seek to destroy us?"

"You just...massacred them," whispered Valerian, quietly.

"They were dead the second they plotted against the Dominion!" barked the Emperor. "This is the Dominion. We do not take attacks lightly. We don't make peace with our enemies! We eliminate them! Don't let your past cloud your judgement Valerian! Do you really think these Umojan scum have earned a cell at New Folsom? Do you think they've earned the right to the provisions of New Folsom? Umoja burns as we speak. Its destruction is of its own doing. And these last desperate attempts to stave off the inevitable will not be allowed to harm the Dominion."

The Prince was distressed, more so than he had ever been. He felt the turmoil rise in his belly, his tongue seizing on the spot as it always did. His mouth was open yet sound was mute. His will was too frail. He cursed himself and then again. It was just like back then. It was just like with his mother.

_He had seen him, the fiend in the mask of a M.D. He assured Valerian that his mother would be fine. And like the fool he was, Valerian bought it. He bought every word until finally the doctor betrayed Valerian's trust and his mother died and died painfully._

_ Valerian remembered it clearly, even now in his father's study as the Emperor furiously lashed out at the Umojan people. The flat line sped across the dark screen with a terrible beep to accompany it. Valerian was weeping by his mother's bedside. The doctor shrugged._

_ "Some things just happen."_

_ Valerian looked up at him, rage and hate filling his soul while the sorrow was left in a dark spot to tear away at the humanity. The doctor, smug and unmoved by the death he promised never to occur. Valerian shook with rage and sadness. The doctor walked away. Valerian didn't move...couldn't move. That man had killed his mother and even then, the young Mengsk was too cowardice to move, to cowardice to speak. Valerian remembered how much he hated himself that day. Even in the face of his mother's death, the Prince knew himself to be a man without_ will. _And now, it was present still in the face of his father's ruthlessness._

"This is how things are," said the Emperor, drawing Valerian's attention back to the present. "We must preserve the Dominion. We're not uncivilized beasts, Valerian. We kill our enemies. We do not flaunt it, we do not boast of it. But we do not permit anyone to attack us and take advantage of the misplaced hospitality we provide!"

"This is wrong," pleaded the Prince.

"How do you think the Dominion has survived?" demanded his father. "Do you think we suffer fools and dissenters? Do you think we provided a bed and food for every man, woman and child who committed treason? This is the reason the Dominion is a force to be reckoned with! You're compassion has been tolerable until now, Valerian. Become that which flows in your veins! You're not a Umojan anymore! You're not a citizen anymore! You're a Mengsk, god damn it! You're a leader! Start acting like one!"

"I...I could never do what you did."

"Then you will die a quick and foolish death!" snapped the Emperor. "These Umojans, do you think they would have cared about your kindness? They will slit your throat and throw you out into space for what you did to them! Your sympathy will earn you your enemies ridicule and cost you your life. _This_ is what it means to lead the Dominion, Valerian. _This_ is what it means to be Emperor!"

Valerian was smothered again. He dared not speak again. Even if he were to muster up the courage once more, he wasn't sure he could even speak. His legs were shaky. His breath was shallow and he needed to get away from his father's presence for once. It was killing him. He quickly and politely resigned from the Emperor's company. He got to the door.

"By the way," spoke the Emperor, casually as if nothing had happened prior. "One of our Vespene tankers went missing in the Brontes Traverse. You know anything about that?"

Valerian merely shook his head – that only worsened his sickening feeling.

"Alright."

Valerian bolted. He made it 10 feet before he crashed to his knees, and vomited the contents of his previous meals. If someone was there, they'd see a Prince, the heir apparent, kneeling in his own sic, with a mix of sickness and tears to spread the pool of misery and confusion. He got back to his feet, slipping on his own vomit. He wobbled outside, unsteadily. The guards looked alarmed. Valerian collapsed on the height of the Palace steps. Bits of vomit hung from his mouth. The tears blurred the Korhal sun. Guards helping him to his feet felt like searing pincers. Valerian wanted to scream. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

OOO

The Twilight Templar. That is what they called him. Artanis still wasn't sure how to react to that. Some used it as a derogatory insult towards him. A few used it as a distinguished rank. Regardless, this was a clear defined separation between Artanis and his people. He was unwelcomed to the Aiur born. He was even unwelcomed to the Dark Templar. If there was ever a feeling in isolation, this was it for the young Protoss leader. And it is for this reason that he submerged himself into his work.

Reams of paper filled the Hierarch's study. Books from the ancient cities of Malgar, Valenssi and the Nexi of the south stood open next to Artanis. References to the Xel'Naga were many. Accurate claims were few. Even fewer were the ones who did not contradict one another. It was slow, meticulous and frustrating work. But it was consuming and it was goal-bound. That was enough to occupy the Hierarch's mind. The Preservers had arrived to Antioch that day. They had taken the hours necessary to praise the Protoss tenacity and ferocity, to praise Aiur itself for vanquishing its unjust rulers and to praise the mighty warriors who made this possible.

Of course, there was no praise to Artanis, no mention of the Hierarch.

The Preservers, there were no more than 20, had gathered at the crippled Tower of Khas. Artanis had ordered an audience with them. He put his headpiece firmly on his head. Uncertainty unnerved the Hierarch. Many of the Protoss even unblessed with the gift of immortality still looked down upon Artanis in the past for his youth. Artanis dreaded the prejudice he could receive from beings so far down the path of immortality that made him look naught but an infant. The only ones who truly knew Preservers were other Preservers. Immortality was a lonely thing, even more so when one bore the burdens of an entire species' memory. Suicide was not unheard of. Artanis stepped down the stairs, each level with another ponder to fill his mind with apprehension. They were beings of innumerable years. Would they care for the political strife that marked but a fraction of their years?

They came into view. These Protoss had taken vows. Utter resolution was their mandate. They were not to take spouses or father children or engage in anything besides their duty. They wore simple rags akin to many Nezarim. They had dull eyes and heavy souls. These were the true immortals. And they did not keep good company.

"Before you speak, listen," spoke one Preserver. "We are not the aged nor the past if you are to judge. We have no interest your...struggle. We have no sympathy to your cause. We do not recognize your authority. One reason alone stands as the motive of our presence here today. The young warrior Zeratul has won over the respect of our Zhakul brothers. For that reason, we will hear what you have to say. You do not grant us an audience, we grant you one."

Artanis tilted his head in courtesy. If there was one group he didn't want to upset, it was the Preservers. Should he offend, thousands of years of Protoss history would be lost. Times of the beginning would die and none catalogued due to the overcomplicated minds of the Preservers and their one vice, the pride of knowing alone all of the Protoss.

"I know I may appear young to you, dear Preservers," spoke Artanis with carefully articulated respect. "And perhaps this conflict seems no more important than the other dozens you must have been called on for. But nevertheless, I have a duty to tell you, this is the single largest threat to the Protoss."

"A Protoss without a fifth centennial hardly has the knowledge to deem what threat has been largest to the Protoss. We have lived forever. It is our judgement that determines what threat is the largest. You are young and so you cannot know."

"Then show me," ordered Artanis.

There was a quiet moment between them. For all their years, the Preservers were perplexed. They looked amongst each other, their eyes revealing bewilderment and confusion. They turned back to face the Hierarch.

"You take our responsibility to the Protoss too lightly," warned a Preserver. "Do you think we were chosen from the dark planets of waste barren huts? Do you think you are one who could bear the burden we carry? Your ignorance offends greatly, you of numbered years. Immortals are destined Preservers. You cannot be shown. Your mind would shatter with so little time to ingest it. 600 years is far too little time to absorb the memories of an entire race."

"I don't want it within 600 years," announced Artanis. "I want it in less than 1."

Laughter was not as it was with the terrans. And so, as their society necessitated, the Protoss formed their own means of jest and mockery. Their tendrils flapped violently above their heads, scorching Artanis' pride. But Artanis had grown in this short time. He was a hated ruler. That was reason enough for Artanis to drive himself to the same fate as many Preservers. But he had a greater duty. He had to endure. And so as the Hierarch bore the hate of his people, he knew that the mockery of the Preservers was nothing to him.

"I have sent the word," said Artanis, interrupting the jest. "I have left Honourable Zeratul to rule in my absence. We will travel to the Heavenly Mountains. On the peak rests a place untouched by the zerg. It is a place of inspiration, meditation and sanctity. Artists, philosophers and lovers of life once congregated there for an experience of the immaterial. There, I will learn."

"This is outrageous," declared a Preserver. "You dare order us? We are a thousand times your elders! We have accumulated such a grand understanding of the universe that you could not even begin to contemplate, much less in less than a year! This is foolishness and brashness. The Brotherhood of Preservers has a mandate to preserve the Protoss past, not to...give a history lesson to a brief leader!"

"I have also sent word to Shakuras," continued Artanis, unfazed. "They are bringing with them the Uraj and the Khalis."

That silenced the Preservers mocks of impossibility. Artanis felt it. They were beginning to grasp the possibility of the situation but they'd not see their pride be bruised.

"To what end do you seek this knowledge?" asked a Preserver.

"To the end which ensures our survival as a species," spoke Artanis, standing as tall as he could muster, hoping the physical superiority would offset the youthful inferiority. "What good are the Preservers if there are no Protoss? What good is all this knowledge if there will be no one to give it too? And what good is the past when it sabotages the future? Dear Preservers, I need your aid. The Protoss need your aid. You are a Protoss first, a Preserver second. It is time to act on said priority. Will you assist?"

Silence.

"It begins with the Great Hungerer."

Artanis contemplated those words heavily, knowing their origins. And as the Hierarch stared into those dark eyes of the Preserver, for the life of him, he didn't know whether the words were for the prophecy, or for himself.

OOO

Valerian dragged his feet behind him. Some of the maids had ushered him from the steps of Korhal and cleaned him up, wiping it all away as if it could ever be so. Valerian would bear those scars for the rest of his days. Even now the image appeared on the center of his retina, burned into memory forever there. He had gone back to his quarters, sword unsheathed. Again and again, he struck the marble pillars in his room with the Bel' Shir steel of his sword. He hacked away at the pillar as if it was the evil foundations of his condition. Again and again he struck, hoping to relieve himself of this restless torment. He felt worse after.

With maids startled, Valerian stumbled out of the Palace, keeping clear of the guards who would have him back in bed, safe. He kept his head low and his stature sulked. It wasn't hard. It wasn't even intended. Valerian had nothing to be proud of. He didn't quite know where his body was leading him until he came face to face with the Dominion Internal Security Building. Something had brought him here and now Valerian was sure of what it was. Two years, he had hid right under Valerian's nose. He couldn't believe Fars had lasted as long as he did, yet he went out exactly how he wanted. Fars had always made the claim to have life leave him with a flurry of gunfire. Such a claim was regarded as juvenile, especially in the undercover nature of the Network but Fars had made it work for himself. Fars met his goals. Valerian had slight introspection as he walked through the doors. Had he attained his own goals? Did he have any goals?

"Prince Valerian," greeted the receptionist.

"I want to see the body of the Umojan spy," said Valerian quietly.

"Which one?" asked the female officer, laughing and twirling her pen. "We've got more Umojans dead here than Kel-Morians floating in Korhal space after that last attack."

Valerian didn't laugh. That was the only sign she needed to quell her laughter and immediately give him directions and access after his specifications. His walk to the large room was lonely and dark. He made it to the room and spotted the coroner.

"Here it is, Prince Valerian," said a coroner.

The veil was lifted and Valerian saw his former comrade, face pale and lifeless. He could have been one of those ones in New Folsom. Fars was always the gorilla, always the largest one and the toughest by far. Seeing his corpse sent chills up Valerian's spine. He couldn't stomach it for the second time today.

His heaving had alarmed the coroner who made to get help before being stopped by Valerian. Wiping residue from his mouth he slowed his breathing down.

"What's the rest of this stuff?" asked Valerian, motioning to the many things occupying the room's space.

"Well, now that the Umojan assassination plot has finally had all its loose ends dealt with, we're going to incinerate the whole case all at once with all the evidence."

"You sure compiled a lot," said Valerian, dryly and still holding his tender stomach.

"You're telling me," chuckled the coroner who had an afterthought of alarm in worrying that he had not shown the Prince the proper respect. His worries were put to ease by the Prince.

"No, but seriously, we've collected so many things I've lost count. One of the Internal Security boys snagged Donny Vermillion's Citizenry Excellency Trophy. Actually, they took a whole bunch of stuff when they raided his house. I'm guessing that's why you're here."

Valerian looked at the coroner surprised. "What?"

"Well surely you didn't come down here just to see the traitor," reasoned the coroner. "I'm guessing you want the manifesto copy."

Valerian recovered quickly, lest the chance slip away from him. "Uh, yes, the Emperor is having some...discrepancies with his newer one. He needs to cross-reference a few things."

"Hold on, I'll get it," called the coroner. He disappeared behind a few shelves.

"You know!" he called from behind the shelves. "When they told me that Vermillion got the manifesto from the Umojan, I couldn't believe my ears! Ha! Never thought a guy like Donny would turn traitor. Just goes to show you how those Umojans got a lot a guys in cahoots with them."

He brought forth the chip that Donny Vermillion had copied from his father's manifesto. Valerian took it, slipping it into a nearby hologram. The coroner then got a call of another dead body having been wheeled in. He excused himself, leaving Valerian alone with his father's deepest secrets. Valerian didn't even want to activate it. He doubted he could find worse things about his father than the things he had experienced already. Yet, like with the act of bringing himself here, something acted outside Valerian's will and prompted him to start the hologram. He lazily skimmed through the menu. Apparently Arcturus had taken the liberty to organize these by way of people involved. Valerian found it unsurprising that Raynor was listed in so many. Valerian's name was listed a few times as well. But Valerian had no need to look at these. His father was quite upfront at the things dealing with him. And times such as today, Valerian certainly wished he wasn't.

Finally, one did catch his eye.

_Implicated: Valerian Mengsk, Juliana Pasteur, Nova Terra_

With a terrible feeling setting in, Valerian clicked enter with his trembling fingers.

_Entry 202_

_ Nova is still maturing. The scientists inform me that it will be at least 5 years until they can ensure a healthy product. In the mean time, the enemies of the Dominion rally and double in size. The throne is as of now, insecure. Should I fall, the Dominion will fall with me and so will the line of Mengsks. I will not let this happen as a duty to my people and my family. I have only bastards but they will have to do. Since Nova is unavailable, I'll have to pronounce Valerian as heir apparent. He'll do until she's ready._

_ Additional Edit_

_The bitch keeps my son locked away in Umoja while his rightful place is here by my side at the heart of the Dominion. It takes everything within me not to go down there and rip him from her arms myself. Men are not coddled. It'll be hard to reverse the destructive notions she has planted in my son's head. He's a Mengsk. This boy must become a man and he can only do so if he is here with me._

_Additional Edit_

_All negotiations have failed. Despite her sickness, she is at least strong willed enough to continue to oppose my efforts to "collect" heirs. She has warned that the Protectorate will intervene if this ensues further. There's nothing to that threat. The Protectorate would not stand up the Dominion for the sake of a child, even an heir. She has forced my hand. I must resort to less than civil methods. But my throne and my line must be secured._

_Additional Edit_

_A freelancer has been hired. There are no ties between him, myself or the Dominion entirely. Recruiters gathered him from Dead Man's Rock. He's one of the few on the Rock that actually possess an education much less a medical degree. His fees are steep but there is no cost quantifiably greater than the throne of the Dominion which my progenitors will sit. A very lucky scenario approaches. The bitch won't give in. She'll keep fighting to the day she dies. And with the freelancer at work, it'll be soon. Once she's dead, she'll have no more control of Valerian and I can bring him back here. Hopefully, it'll toughen him up too. God knows he needs it._

"No," whispered Valerian.

He stumbled backwards, hitting his back and head on the adjacent wall.

"'No," he wailed.

The Doctor's face flashed before his eyes as his mother's life flashed before hers.

"NO!" he bellowed.

He launched the accursed hologram across the room. He threw himself against a nearby shelf, pounding with his bare fists against the hard wood. He pounded and pounded. Tears flew freely from his eyes as he screamed in rage and horror. The young Prince collapsed, his face to the ground, still weeping in terror. He felt sick. There was nothing left in his stomach to empty, though. He should have acted against the Doctor. Somewhere, he had always known something was wrong with him.

He rose to meet Fars' dead stare.

"What do I do?" he screamed at the corpse. "What do I do?"

Involuntary jerks spiked through the horrified Prince. He sunk against a wall, all his anguish at the full front. He tasted salt from his tears. He wished he tasted blood. Curled up against the cold floor, the Prince of the Dominion wailed until his throat couldn't handle it. His mother killed by his father. Such a thing was supposed to happen to other people, not him, not royalty. What had become of him? Of his father? For all his grand stories of the majesty of the line of Mengsk, he did not live up to the tale in any possible regard.

"Mengsks are all bastards!" he gnashed.

And with curses and sobs, the broken Prince left the room with only droplets of water in his wake.

OOO

They moved silently through the night. It was not easy dodging the patrols. They were well trained and well coordinated, much beyond what the Protectorate, Combine even the Dominion perhaps had taught. Through another infinite sand storm, twelve men moved invisibly through the brown oblivion. The weight on their minds carried them deep into a place they had to ignore until the mission was done. It was absolutely vital. They could not fail.

They passed the broken buildings. There were more and more of them. That was a good sign. They were headed the right way. One put up his hand for the others to stop. They disappeared into the shadows and watched meticulously as the two guards patrolling the perimeter passed. Other men would have taken them out, but not these 12 men. There business was not in killing but succeeding. The bolted as soon as backs were turned. There was no noise. There was no even hint that they were there at all.

The doors opened without much hassle. Apparently the guests never expected anyone to make it by their patrols. These floors were different than the hard earth, but the twelve were used to adapting and they continued their silent and speedy journey. Weapons were readied. They were not the giant gauss rifles of the marines. They were small enough to pack, large enough to intimidate. That was all that constituted a gun. Whether it fired or not wasn't important. They huddled around a door. Light poured from the crack between the door and the door frame. They could hear music and tempered laughter. One of them nodded.

The doors were busted down. There were few screams. The men immediately silenced those who weren't wise enough to remain mute. But they all knew the mission.

They only needed one.

A dampened stream of firing rifles played with the percussion of the music during the time where as much as 8 people were mowed down under fire. One man was left alive. They descended on him quickly and with the intent of devils.

They blindfolded, gagged and bound him. The comfortable silence returned and as they hauled the prisoner away from the room, all twelve felt a little closer to their goal. Down some steps and then down some more. This was the way according to the terrified prisoner. Roughly, they forced the prisoner down his narrow staircase.

"What counter-measures are in place?" asked one of the twelve.

The prisoner didn't respond.

The man pushed his weapon into the prisoner's back. "Tell me or I shoot you in as many ways I know possible short of killing you. Bleeding out is terribly painful. You don't want that, trust me."

The prisoner motioned to the eye, the thumb, the mouth and digits.

"Open it" demanded the men with the weapons.

The blindfold was lifted but his head was stuck in a strictly forward position by large hands that could easily crack his neck if he so much took a peek at the identity of his captors. The prisoner did as ordered. Half a minute passed before the door hissed as the pressure was relieved and the gateway to what the twelve desired had been opened. Their mission was successful. Save for on liability.

The prisoner was put to rest immediately after.

"Signal the evac," ordered one. "Package secure, repeat, package secure. Let's bag it, boys."

All the while, a tiny shimmer in the corner of the room went unbeknownst to them.

OOO

This was a shady place for him. He had wandered around in these places as a child, often leading to rude night awakenings and running to mother with bad dreams. His sword swung low near his feet. The ubiquitous darkness unnerved the Prince. His cape was marked with black soot and dirt. It was a godforsaken place.

Valerian was going to turn around. He was going to back away from this desolate scene back into the warm comfort of Augustgrad downtown. He didn't do things like this. This wasn't like him. But the more Valerian thought about it, there was nothing like him. He was nothing. He was nothing but the mirror of whomever was the strongest at the time. He was nothing but a shadow of great men. First it had been his swordsman teacher, and then Alexander the Great during his college years studies of pre-jump history. The history before the departure from earth enticed Valerian as much as the history after the jump and the crash. Alexander the Great had conquered the world. Could Valerian do the same? And then it was the Minister, and finally his father. Valerian was nothing without great men to define him. Valerian turned side, prepared to sacrifice his journey which had scarcely begun. He would stop his appointment and scurry back to the throne.

And then the voice.

_"Be your own man."_

His mother's soothing words nearly brought a tear to Valerian's eyes. He loved her so much. He was the most precious thing to her. All he had done was disappoint her and disappoint her again. And even in her death, Valerian knew he couldn't even muster the strength to honour her memory by abiding by that one simple wish. His mother deserved better than that. He deserved better than that. It would change. It would change today. Today he'd rid himself of all his mother wished. He'd shed his indecisiveness. He'd discard his cowardice. He'd be rid of his weak will.

He'd be his own man.

He took a breath and marched into the building – an old rundown complex in Confederate Street. It was dingy and rotten. Augustgrad housed the richest people in the Sector and the poorest. And Valerian decided he probably shouldn't have dressed as ornately as he did. It was casual for him yet in the eyes of the onlookers, tacitly gazing at him, the Prince was adorned in robes of gods.

An arm reached out and grabbed him, moving him to a less crowded corner of the room. The air stunk with alcohol and vomit. While dim lights offered a little insight in the despair of the occupants. It was dreadful and miserable to watch, yet he had no choice. There was insistence on meeting here.

"My apologies Prince Valerian," spoke the man who grabbed him. "I know your fondness of the Dominion doesn't extend to these pits of hell but it is the only place outside the ears of the Dominion spies and your father."

"Superintendant Rothman," greeted Valerian, quietly. "Thank you for coming. Since you went out of your way to bring me here unbeknownst to anyone I know this isn't a time to question loyalty but I need you to guarantee me that not one word of this conversation is uttered again so long as you live. I want your word on that."

"You have a politician's word," provided the Superintendant. "Means shit all doesn't it?"

He took a swing of his drink. Valerian dared not ask what it was. His anxiety was not waning.

"As steward of the planet, specifically the capital of the Dominion, there are likely few as knowledgeable about the Dominion as you," started Valerian.

The Superintendant laughed loudly. Valerian looked around startled. But the atmosphere was such that even the Superintendant of the planet couldn't force his laugh to stir the crowd from the misery.

"You hold me in too high esteem," laughed the Superintendant. "I'm nothing but Mengsk's dog, and you know it. The whole god damned Sector knows it. What authority do I have hmm? The Emperor's already claimed Augustgrad for himself. Never understood why a leader of an interstellar empire needed direct municipal control of a single city! I'm undermined in every decision I make. Everyone knows that the Emperor leads Korhal IV, not me. When's the last time anyone's given a damn what I thought? This ain't my planet. My position means nothing and the Emperor has seen it so."

"There are a few who know more than me though," said the Superintendant, "namely your father who's audience would have been much easier and more convenient than my own. So obviously there is something here you don't want the Emperor to hear."

Valerian looked down at the table. There were little tinny gashes in the metal surface. They reminded him of the picture in his head, dead men, women and children, all lifelessly stretched across the cruel steel as if death was cruel enough to reward a less than comforting deathbed. He thought of his mother and her death which came by the hand of the one responsible for so many cruelties. His breath returned to him.

"I saw 60 people die today by my father's command," Valerian whispered, eyes blurred with moisture but face resolved with determination. "I watched as Umojans were thrown into a room and gassed until they couldn't handle it anymore. I heard all the screams and the desperation."

The Superintendent of Korhal IV was disturbed. "Why are you telling me this?"

Valerian took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "What is an Emperor who kills his own people? What is an Emperor who murders women and children. What is an Emperor who destroys the lives of others because they live just a wee bit away from himself?"

"That usually comes with being Emperor, in whatever time you pick," responded the Superintendant."You're a pre-jump history major like myself though. You know all about that. The Macedonians, the Persians, the Romans, the Chinese and even the Africans."

"That's going to change," Valerian said softly.

The Prince had the Superintendant's full attention.

"What procedures are in place in terms of Emperor succession?" asked Valerian, slowly.

The Superintendant's eyes widened with shock and revelation.

"Prince Valerian I-"

"Do the Chancellors stand behind the Dominion? Or do they stand behind my father?" asked Valerian strongly.

"Wha- I can't s-"

"Would the Dominion survive a switch in leadership?"

The Superintendant's mouth was moving but no words came out.

"Well would it?" asked Valerian, forcefully.

There was no answer. Valerian glanced again at the dents in the table and the Umojan bodies that littered the New Folsom floors.

Valerian stood up, placing his fists firmly on the table. "Well?" he demanded, loudly. "Would it?"

"Just- just sit down," begged the Superintendant.

Valerian obliged.

"I, we...are you serious about this?" asked the Korhal IV steward. "I won't say a word, you can still back out."

"I've been backing out my whole life," hissed Valerian, vehemently. "It stops now. I need information Rothman. I need to know if there are two Emperors of the Dominion, where people's allegiances lie. I need to know whose side everyone's on and I need to know what support I need to take the throne."

Rothman closed his eyes painfully as if the treason he spoke burned his tongue. "If Mengsk goes, so do the Chancellors. You'll need the political backing of most of the Korhal, Tyrador and a good portion of Brontes Superintendants if you want to make a claim to the throne. You'll need the right of ascent that would be covered through your blood. You'll need to win over the UNN, and that'll be difficult. But most importantly, you'd need the support of the Dominion Armed Forces that means reconciling your differences with General Duke."

"That's a start," replied Valerian. He rose from his chair. "I'll look into these people. In the mean time, this stays secret, you understand? No one is to hear a word of this. We'll speak soon."

"Prince Valerian," called the Superintendant as the heir apparent was turning to leave. He faced the steward. "There's only one way Arcturus Mengsk would ever give up the throne."

"By force."

* * *

**Author's note: The set up is done. The breaking point has been met. Next chapter, we're dropping straight into Dylar and the Dylarian Shipyards. I know the wait was long. I apologize for that but I should have some more frequent updates soon. Drop a review if you'd like or if not, thanks for reading anyway.**


	40. Chapter 40

**1 month later **

"_Hello, this is the Universal News Network bringing you another daily update on the events within and surrounding the Dominion. With each passing day, the hunt for the missing Princess November continues with more vigour as normal citizens spurred on by patriotism take vows to save the heiress and continue the pursuit for the Emperor's daughter held captive by the terrorist James Raynor and his associates. The Emperor shocked everyone several days ago when he announced a gigantic credit reward to whoever could find and secure his daughter from Raynor's Raiders. This comes as a surprise as the Emperor has previously condemned the workings of militia and private contractors. Alas perhaps the loss of a daughter is finally taking its toll on our strong Emperor._

_ Elsewhere, General Duke announced success in finally trapping and disposing of the monstrosity that laid ruin to Dominion colonies everywhere. The General reported that it was a long and fierce battle with many lives lost but ultimately, the Dominion Armada has now warded off this disastrous threat. However, many attacked colonies are now protesting that they have received little to no damage relief from the Emperor who promised that their recovery was at the forefront of his mind. Tyrador IX is particularly suffering from this. The mayor of Korhal City spoke on this as well, claiming that the treatment towards victim colonies is very much the same as Korhal City has been treated after the Odin incident. The mayor went on to state: "If [the Emperor] has room in his budget to finance multi-billion credit military projects, he certainly has the funds to provide his own people with basic amenities they need to survive."_

_ Other critics of the Dominion, specifically newly returned Tyrador IX Superintendent Catherine Regina spoke out with claims that the Emperor is showing a clear disregard for humanitarian aid and basic human decency. She goes on to cite the Dominion's refusal to accept refugees in light of the Second Great War as proof of the Emperor's concerning attitude of apathy towards humanitarian needs. The throne has refused to comment on this._

_ Plans for re-colonization? Barely weeks after the Second fleet reclaimed the planet of Agria, people are already beginning to wonder whether they will return to Agria on a permanent resident basis. However, Agria is now a shadow of its former self. The zerg occupation and subsequent battle has left the planet forever scarred and damaged. The Emperor seemed reluctant to fund more colonial endeavors. We will follow this story as it progresses._

_ In other news, the price of Vespene continues to soar as the shortage continues with no signs of stopping. The Emperor reports that shipments leaving the Vespene rich planet of Brontes IV are being raided and stolen. This has led to attempts by the Dominion Armada to heightened protection on the Vespene tankers as they travel through the Dominion. Unfortunately, the raiders continue to attack and reports are that the Armada is having considerable trouble in combating and preventing these raids. Many people on Korhal IV even have begun to riot as the Vespene industry is crucial to all interplanetary disciplines. Civil unrest has littered the streets of Brontes IV as their main source of income has been cut. There has been much violence amongst the Dominion and many people are even taking measures into their own hands by securing Vespene through illegal raids on domestic Refineries. There are other reports that are stimulating even more outrage. Supposedly, General Duke has ordered the rationing of the Vespene supply in large numbers to keep the Armada operational in light of the shortage. With Vespen in so short supply and even less now that the Armada has claimed so much of it, everyone is hurting right now and all hope that the shortage ends quickly and that the energy industry stabilizes. For UNN, I'm Rachel Wood."_

The screen flickered off.

"And so it begins," said Kerrigan softly.

Her head rested upon the shoulder of James Raynor. Neither of them wanted to fully wake from their sleepy stupor. In all honesty, it could be the last tranquility they would ever experience.

"Today?" she asked.

"In a couple hours," confirmed Raynor.

"Was the wait worth it?"

Raynor sighed. "It turns out the Minister was right. This Vespene shortage has put the Dominion in a right fit. It'll only take one more push to send them over the edge. And we're gonna give em' it."

"And Nova?"

Raynor paused, wondering how Kerrigan knew of such things then reasoned that her telepathy was beyond measure.

"Nova will play her part. Of that I'm certain," responded Raynor. "I'm more worried that we play ours right now."

Kerrigan could feel it from her contact with Jim. His heart was pounding. He was perspiring and his breath was quick. James Raynor was scared. She moved closer to him, and he held tight to her.

"Have you…have you ever been in a battle this large?" asked Raynor, suddenly. "Have you ever faced a foe that could block the sun with its numbers?"

"Once before," admitted Sarah, softly. "But back then, I had my own army to fight them."

"We sure don't got that," concluded Jimmy, trying to control the tiny tremor in his hand. "I've never had to go through this. I've only just been in the largest battle of my life. And that was easy compared to this. In fact I almost prefer the surprise than having to plan it out. It's…it's excruciating."

"We're facing an enemy that vastly outnumbers us," Sarah said. "They have greater discipline, a more organized chain of command, more advanced military technology and excellent lines of communication which are second to none."

"Is that supposed to instill confidence?" asked Raynor, with a shaky laugh. "Sure seems like we're in over our head."

Sarah touched Jim's cheek and turned his head to face her. "But we have you – the one man who has alluded and damaged Mengsk more than anyone. And we have Warfield, the most experienced commander the Dominion ever had. And we have the Protoss who we all know aren't easily defeated. We have Matt, who has never stopped in his quest to overthrow the Dominion and won't stop now. We have Nova, the one who holds the key to all this. And you have me."

"I'll need you more than ever now," said Raynor, strangely wobbly. "If we make one mistake – we'll lose hundreds of men. If we catch an unlucky break – we'll lose hundreds of men."

"And if you succeed," interrupted Sarah. "You will have brought this tyrannical empire to its knees. How many lives is that worth?"

"If," spoke Raynor, with a hint of bitterness. "If. And by god, that's a big if."

"Jim," said Sarah, gently. "You stole a top secret enemy prototype weapon. You led an incursion on the throne world. You invaded Char. You rescued me. And you helped free Aiur. Those were all ifs. I wouldn't be here right now if not for those ifs. And I would stop you right now if I thought you were in any way incapable of leading your men to victory. We _can_ break the Dominion today."

Raynor thought deeply. "We can break the Dominion today," he repeated.

Sarah smiled. "Four years of hardship and trial could all be worth it in these next moments. Every battle you've fought, ever struggle you've gone through has led you to this moment. Don't doubt yourself now. It's time to finish what you started."

Raynor felt a feeling akin to when he had seen the mountains of creep tumble from Char. He felt like when he saw the News Broadcast air and fluster Mengsk. He felt as if he was reliving the moment when he stole the Hyperion. He couldn't give up now.

"No more ifs," ordered Sarah, flatly. "No more: _if_ we take the Shipyards. We _will_ take the Shipyards."

Raynor saw in her the fierceness that only she could hold. He felt the intrepidness only she could convey. She exuded the confidence that only Sarah Kerrigan possessed. If there was one thing Raynor knew, it was that Sarah believed in him even when he didn't believe himself. That was enough for him.

"We should go," whispered Kerrigan, though her intent was weak.

They both stared out in the blackness of space with only tiny specs of far away light to fill the immeasurable void. It was a giant place. And they were about to fight for their lives for but a fraction of this space. They were fighting for a patch of blackness.

But in the comfortable setting of a warm bed and a precious companion, this place wasn't darkness with specs of light. It was light with specs of darkness. And Raynor knew he was fighting for more than a patch of blackness.

"A few more minutes," spoke Raynor. He turned his head towards Kerrigan. "What can we get up to in that time?"

Kerrigan shared the smirk, preparing to share more as they would remember what they were fighting for – what they would die for.

The minutes were far too short. And Raynor found himself walking towards the bridge as Sarah reluctantly shoved him out the door, getting ready herself. Officers bustled around the corridors. With every pass, each gave their commander a nod of respect. They were ready. However it would take more than readiness to secure a victory at the Dylarian Shipyards. The mere thought of it was still daunting to the commander. It would not be taken easily. The UED occupation had spurred the Dominion to increase its defenses tenfold. Easily one of the three most fortified places in the Sector alongside Korhal IV and Braxis, Raynor knew he sought to disprove the impregnable status of the Shipyards. He would have to break the Armada. There was but one comfort and that was the commander's Captain of the Hyperion.

"Sir," greeted Horner, as excited as grim. "It's nearly time. Our ships are ready."

"What's our final count?" asked Raynor.

"42 Cruisers," spoke Horner with confidence. "Quite something, huh? We started just with the Hyperion. And now, we got Umojan, Kel-Morian, mercenary and now colonial ships flying with us."

"Back then we were conducting a bunch of raids," said Raynor, bemused. "Now we're about to do something only a fool would even think of."

"Hearts and minds," assured the Captain with a rare glimmer of humor.

"Is everything ready?"

"The Protoss say that Fenix will be leading their forces," reported the captain. "Apparently your friend Zeratul has wandered off again and Artanis…well they didn't say much about him. All teams are in position. But there's a little thing that was just brought to my attention."

He hesitated before speaking. Raynor leaned in, concerned.

"That Observer," started Matt, "well it got back a few hours ago. There was…footage. The…the Old Families are dead. A Umojan hit team infiltrated their complex and killed them all. They also emptied the funds in the volt."

Raynor didn't even try to feign surprise. "25 billion isn't enough to sustain the Protectorate for long."

"You knew this would happen?" asked Horner.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," concluded Raynor. "Nobody understands that better than the Minister. Anyhow, they won't be missed. Enough of this though. It's time. Prep for jump."

OOO

"How did you convince me to come here, Valerian?" sighed the Emperor. His face, though drained with the heavy duties of leadership, still showed the fire of a Mengsk, and the contempt that came with it.

Through the window as he passed through the streets, he still saw rubble, wreckage and dozens of people wandering about seemingly without goal or hope.

Korhal City. Once the crown jewel of the planet before the rise of the Mengsks, now was a ruined city thanks to the botched Odin incident. Although, Mengsk couldn't say he was unhappy. Korhal City had never sat well with the fact that Augustgrad usurped its position of power. While not a matter of political clout as much as pride, Arcturus was glad that Korhal City was learning its place – whether through him or Raynor.

With the damned Vespene shipments that continued to go missing and the reports of riots all over the Dominion, Valerian had insisted that Arcturus make a good will visit to Korhal City. It was already volatile enough with the Dominion ignoring its plea for damage funds. If there was a city to begin a large revolt, it was Korhal city. And despite Mengsk's loathing of the city, having an insurgency on the throne planet did not send a confident message to the rest of the Dominion.

"Let's get this over with," grumbled Arcturus, stepping onto the broken streets.

There was a surge in noise as the inhabitants of Korhal City rushed towards him, only stopped by the invisible wall they knew to be armed assassins. Arcturus Mengsk put on a brave smile and waved a powerful hand. The crowd however, did not quell. Shouts of anger sliced through the ghost wall and procured a frown from the mighty Emperor.

"Emperor, it's been 6 months since the Odin incident!" cried a woman, flailing her arms over the invisible fence. "6 months for you to do nothing! Where's the aid? Where's our damage relief? This is the throne world and our streets are in Fringe World conditions!"

The Emperor strode past her not offering a second glance or open ear. Valerian paused for a moment. He looked around crowd. There were faces everywhere, people everywhere. But he was only looking for one. The Prince's eyes darted between person to person, begging that the next one was the one he was looking for.

And he found him.

His face was grim and tired, but it was there, hidden amongst the endless mob. Valerian sighed in relief. He focused his vision on that man. No bystander could have even suspected what was going on.

The Prince and heir apparent of the Dominion locked eyes with the Mayor of Korhal City. The mayor gave him a nod.

All the pieces were set.

The Emperor took a glance at his son. Valerian took on a stoic visage, revealing little. He had barely spoken this trip. Arcturus took this as a good sign. The boy was beginning to learn that death was the currency of power. One day, Arcturus suspected Valerian would trade with it as well.

Valerian was enveloped in his own thoughts. He couldn't remember how many times he and the Superintendent had conversed over the last month. Through the most subtle way the Superintendent knew of, he had procured the information that Tyrador was not completely opposed to new rule. Dylar wouldn't say either way and it was too risky to ask Korhal now. The Prince's eyes closed. He wished his mother were here now. She'd see the man she deserved. She'd see the Valerian that was everything she had hoped for.

Valerian had learned early on that being his own man was frightening and dangerous. He had never lived before that day one month ago. It was like learning to walk again. Valerian only hoped he wouldn't stumble in these next few moments. Regardless of the result, it would be a crucial moment for the Dominion.

There were no more excuses, no more powerful men to scurry back to for comfort and security. Valerian was on his own now.

OOO

The Dominion held a centralized hub for the Dominion Armada. Every possible piece of information related to the Dominion and its security passed through the plain building that rested in the heart of Augustgrad. This place was home to hundreds. The Dominion supplied enough information to employ thousands of analysts. There were always sightings. There were always possible threats. Yet it always seemed as if the real threats were the ones that passed through the net of inspection. Regardless, the hub bustled with movement and chatter.

The Emperor had ordered them to work diligently in order to halt the Vespene raids. A month of little to no Vespene had taken its toll. The Emperor was getting so desperate as to begin contemplating a return to Bel'Shir and harvesting what they could from that energy rich planet.

Officers coursed through the giant open rooms as the only source of light were the bright screens of monitors whose very images looked strained under the demanding glare of committed individuals. With eyes glued and attention unwavering, not one shred of information would be missed today or there'd be hell to pay.

An officer Caledon stood just as attentive as the rest. As he looked around to survey his comrades he realized with a hint of incredulity that these were perhaps the only people within the Dominion Armada that weren't pulled from the correctional facilities. His job seemed appealing only to those who had no other choice. And perhaps it was. Caledon didn't know anymore. The politics, the propaganda, the aliens, it was all too confusing, all too overwhelming. Even as an officer, he stopped caring. One day he had realized that that was probably the Emperor's greatest victory. And yet, validating said victory, Caledon was too apathetic to even care of the Emperor's agenda now. He was just a man at his post, staring at the endless information, trying to sift out which of it was fake, and which was…less fake.

And then, an interesting thing happened at his station.

The Red had been transmitted.

Caledon was at full attention. He typed away furiously at his station, desperately looking for the confirmation on such a claim. They always had had warning before a Red was issued. Was this a drill? Was this a malfunction?

His fingers flew as he had no other goal than to confirm this serious claim. The breath was taken from his lungs and he lurched back in his seat as if someone had just landed a firm blow to his gut. There was no mistaking it now.

The Red was authentic.

"Colonel!" yelled Caledon, standing up. "We got a Red, sir!"

Officers alike immediately swiveled their heads in his direction with looks of disbelief and some of horror.

The colonel whipped around. "Confirm!"

"I've done it twice sir!" reported Caledon. "New Folsom is under attack."

"I got a Red!" yelled another. "Braxis is hailing, sir! Their reporting a Protoss force, fleet size in numbers. They've breached the DMZ, repeat, they have breached the DMZ."

"What the hell?" whispered the Major.

"Red! Red!" reported another officer. "Torus II is requesting immediate assistance!"

"Tyrador has issued a Red! They report enemy contacts!"

"Sir! We've received a Red from Brontes IV. The insurgents have come out of hiding. Their poised to take the Refineries all together!"

"We're under siege!" growled the colonel. "Issue alert level 10. We can't mobilize anything until we get the approval of the Emperor! Get him on the horn now!"

"Sir," said one officer, slowly.

"What?" he snapped, viciously.

"He's not responding," reported the officer.

"What do you mean he's not responding?" demanded the colonel.

"I can't raise the Emperor."

There was silence in the room. All eyes turned to the colonel.

"What do we do?"

The colonel froze in place. The responsibility for Dominion security now rested in his hands. He had not been trained for this. He had not been taught how to repel a Sector wide attack on their colonies. Who were these enemies? How had they amassed such a large force?

"Mobilize the Armada!" he finally bellowed. "Make the call! All soldiers report to active duty! This is not a drill! Hail the Shipyards! We need to secure Brontes IV! Deploy the First Fleet to the Brontes Traverse. Marshal the Second Fleet! We need them at Braxis! If the Braxans say they're in trouble, we'll need nothing short of the whole fleet to repel the threat! Third Fleet!"

"Third Fleet has been decommissioned sir!" reported Caledon. "They defected with General Warfield."

"Fine then, where's the Fourth Fleet?"

"They're in a holding pattern outside the Prime system. They're securing the corridor to the zerg on the Emperor's orders."

"Damn it, we can't leave ourselves open to the zerg!" fumed the colonel. "All…Alright, pull Mira Han's forces out of Korhal! We need them at New Folsom! And for god's sake, keep General Duke's forces at the Shipyards. This is enough of a mess without having that brute's ego come into play."

"But sir, what about Tyrador? What about Torus?" Caledon demanded. "Why are we protecting New Folsom's criminals instead of our own colonies?"

"To hell with them!" roared the colonel. "New Folsom takes priority. Now's not the time to argue! I want those ships out of the Shipyards and to their stations five minutes ago! General Duke excluded, if I find one starcraft with an engine and crew still in the Shipyards, there'll be hell to pay! Now get to it!"

"And someone find out why we can't contact the Emperor!" screamed the colonel.

OOO

"They've taken the bait!" reported Warfield, dislodging his ear from the radio he was so intent on keeping close but a minute ago. "First and Second Fleet have vacated the Shipyards. Only General Duke is still stationed there. Raynor! Do we proceed?"

Raynor nodded his head. "Matt, give the order."

The Captain of the Hyperion switched on the com to address the whole ship. "All men to stations! Battle Ready! Warp Jump in 5…4…3…2…1…jump!"


	41. Chapter 41

"Transmit message!" yelled the Dylarian Commander. "The Dylarian Shipyards are under attack! We're being hit by enemy contacts! All counter-measures are being deployed! We have no fleet support, repeat we have no fleet support! First, Second and Fourth Fleet have all been deployed! General Duke is-"

"Sir!" interrupted a Dominion soldier. "Our communications are down. We can't transmit anything."

"Damn it, we're being jammed," growled the commander. "How are we?"

"We're still holding strong!" reported an officer. "All batteries are engaged. Starcraft have been deployed. Their ships are taking heavy damage. We will wait until they enter the kill zone before we deploy Hunter missiles. Orbital health is still green."

"Marshal every ship left in this dump," ordered the Commander. "Push them away from the production precinct. We will hold the Shipyards as long as we keep them at our axis! Disengage passive controls. I want these shipyards moving alongside the enemy. We need to keep them in the center. Try communications again!"

A roaring explosion thundered outside and left a blazing ball of fire in its wake. The Dominion officers brushed it off and diligently began mustering their formidable defenses. They had all gotten a surprise but the shock had already worn off.

These bastards were going to need a lot more than this to capture the shipyards.

The largest enemy Battlecruiser was a daunting thing indeed, though. The Commander vaguely thought he had seen it from somewhere. Regardless, the Commander knew even the Norad IV could not contest with that monster. Dozens of ships soared past the Commander's base, no doubt headed towards the enemy's own flight of fighters. The space was being drawn in flashes and smoke trails. The deafening blasts of orbital cannons and batteries shook everything in its vicinity. Two enemy ships collapsed under concentrated and effective fire. The Commander smiled widely in savagery.

"The big one!" he shouted into the intercom. "Bring him into the kill zone!"

Small fighters, peppered the hull of the enemy ship with a manner of violence until it finally took notice. Like a coordinated swarm of bees, the Dominion vessels surged in on the larger ship. Ships were screaming as they crashed in a fiery doom. The Dominion troops then retreated, with the Battlecruiser in tow. The vengeful craft descended upon its smaller companions - sparing few as it neared closer and closer to platform.

"Kill it."

Through insulated and armored walls, the commander could only imagine the beeping of the dozens of Hunter missiles slowly but surely flew towards the enemy cruiser. The Commander wished he could have seen the look on the captain's face. The cruiser could not avoid it and was smashed by the endless amount of missiles. The Shipyards certainly had many to spare. Again and again, the explosive ordinance battered the large Battlecruiser who had slowed its advance to a painful halt. There, it was crippled into a smoking ball of crushed steel and absent crew. Shards of metal flew everywhere, like a rain of warfare.

There were no need for stars that day. Salvos, fire and cannonade lit the dark space with a cruel glow only fit for man and war.

OOO

"The terrorists crippled your families!"

The Emperor stood high above the Korhal City inhabitants who had gathered near, keenly listening perhaps out of fear more than respect. There was never tranquility, not when you didn't know if there was a ghost standing right behind you. The city square was no longer the most glorious place to hold a speech. There was rubble in the streets with trees uprooted and scorches stained on the streets that still remained intact. But the Emperor always had a reason for everything.

"The insurgents desecrated homes!" the Emperor roared. "The rebels laid ruin to your city! They unleashed the Odin upon you! They turned a machine of security into a beast of war and they did so upon the innocent people of Korhal City!"

The Emperor paused to see a reaction. It was somewhat worrisome, he admitted. Perhaps his charisma was declining but he did not spur the reactions he once had in his earlier years of governance. He sneered to himself. He had presented the inhabitants of Korhal City an enemy to focus their rage on. Clearly they were still stubbornly icy towards the throne. But no matter, they were all sheep in the end. Mengsks would shepherd them home.

"But rest assured, the Dominion does not take attacks lightly!" continued the Emperor loudly. "Within moments, assets of the Dominion were and still are ready to provide protection to all who fall within its realm. _We _pushed back the Odin! _We _repelled the Second Great War! And _we_ defeated the monster who attacked our colonies! Your safety has always remained at the forefront of our minds. I vow on this day not to rest until we rebuild this magnificent city back to the metropolitan glory it once was! We will keep the enemy forces at bay and make sure no harm befalls this valiant city and its people ever again!"

The applause wasn't as powerful as Arcturus had anticipated. That put him in an even fouler mood than before. His very tongue felt bitter with the diatribe of shameless ass kissing. The crowd dispersed quickly. Valerian watched the scene with sad understanding. His father had made these promises before and he had crafted these speeches before. However Korhal City was in the rare position of knowing the Emperor's failure to deliver. The people were becoming sick of a leader who despised them and yet adorned them with praise both parties knew not to be genuine. Superintendent Rothman was right. Korhal City was the right place.

"Keep up Valerian!" called the Emperor, impatiently.

Valerian looked over to his father who was already making his way back to the heavily armored APC. Jogging to catch up, Valerian couldn't help but look around. Broken glass, rubble and downed metro lines still hadn't been fully cleaned up. It was perhaps even worse than Augustgrad's Confederate Street.

The skies were more welcoming. The normal reddish hue had passed momentarily for a brief euphoric blue. Valerian gazed at it with wonder. Very view of their colonies held consistent blue skies. Many said it was because of all the spilt blood. Others thought it was to remind them of the danger in this Sector. Such a blue sky warmed Valerian's heart as he remembered dancing out in the streets of Umoja, he barely 7 and his healthy mother chasing him with half-hearted disciplinary motives. They ran and ran under blue skies with smiles and light souls. Back then there were a lot more blue skies.

There was an odd serenity to this. Even with downed infrastructure and an unhappy crowd at his back, Valerian felt the fear slip from his body. Today would be a good day. He'd become his own man. Mother would have wanted that. The people would want that.

Valerian stepped into the vehicle with his father. He quickly checked his time. They were right on schedule. There were two visible bodyguards that had decloaked and were speaking in hushed tones amongst themselves. They shared continual glances towards Valerian. His anxiety crept back and he did his best to ignore them.

"God, I can't believe I even said that," snapped the Emperor, irritated. "Whoever thought Korhal City was a metropolitan glory should be shot. There's more to the claim that the zerg are our friends than calling Korhal City valiant. Not to mention it's filled with the most selfish ungrateful peasants that could only dream of Augustgrad! Why the hell did we come here?"

"We came here to make sure you don't get your ass unceremoniously kicked off the throne," replied Valerian.

He then regretted saying that; it had come off too strong. He was not an expert in temperament and now it was showing. The Prince feared that his father would suspect something from his new found identity. Rather, he let out a silent sigh when the Emperor showed signs of delight. Valerian inwardly smirked. Arcturus thought his boy was becoming more of a man.

Valerian would show him.

"A good enough reason then," responded the Emperor, abandoning some of his bitterness. "Now then, where else do we have to go to appease these invalids?"

"Mayor Bauer has ordered extra security for us," read Valerian. "They'll meet us when we get to the financial district."

"No doubt he wants to brown nose for some funds," said Arcturus snidely. "Either way it couldn't hurt. Can't tell what these people are going to do next."

Valerian glanced at his watch again. "Driver! Let's get moving."

The pair of ghosts then decided to make their way over to the APC. Valerian immediately glanced their way, then back to his father in panic. He had to make a decision - this time one completely his own and without any time for thought. Valerian excused himself quickly and met the ghosts before they could make it to the APC. They were taken aback at first, but like good neural resocialized soldiers, they quickly adjusted.

"Prince Valerian, we have an urgent message from Command. We need the Emperor."

"It'll have to wait," brushed off the Prince, all too glad that it was nothing implicating himself.

"Sir I-"

"I said it will have to wait," repeated Valerian, testily. "We have to keep a strict schedule to keep here and I can't let my father be delayed."

"With all due respect, sir, this can't wait."

"You know what else can't wait?" spoke the forceful Prince, drawing himself to full height, though still inferior to the hardened soldier. "The meeting between the Emperor and very powerful businessmen in Korhal City who my father plans on getting to head the companies that were busted by the Umojan takedowns. That's tens of millions of credits. I'm not going to jeopardize this just so father can have a chat with the generals."

"But sir-"

"I've said my last on this," declared the Prince, flatly. "Now go back to doing whatever it is you do when no one can see you."

The Ghosts hesitated for a moment. Valerian couldn't back down. He had to stay on time. Even then, Valerian knew that these ghosts could have easily killed him in 50 different ways before he could react. But then again, like his father said, there _were_ benefits to being a Mengsk. The two shadow operatives wordlessly vanished into the air. With yet another breath of relief that was becoming more and more common, Valerian got back into the APC.

"Trouble?" asked the Emperor.

"Not at all," lied the Prince, smoothly. "Driver! Step on it! We have a schedule to meet!"

Valerian prided himself at that moment.

This would be a peaceful revolution.

OOO

"Carson is dead!" yelled Horner. "Him and the rest of his crew! We just lost the Ardent!"

Raynor cursed loudly. Hundreds of men had just died.

"He broke formation to follow interlopers!" reported the captain. "They have some sort of kill box. We have to stay clear of that. Make sure we keep tight or they'll be picking us off one by one!"

"What about Nova?" demanded a worried commander. "Have you heard anything from Nova?"

"Affirmative," replied Matt Horner. "She's on the ground! Don't worry, she hasn't failed us yet!"

"There's a first time for everythi-"

The Hyperion shook from a direct hit from an orbital cannon. It sent those on the bridge sprawling to the floor. Luckily, the Hyperion was one hard sucker to down. Looking at the command screen, Raynor knew other Battlecruisers didn't share that advantage.

"What's the count now?" he demanded.

"We've lost 5 ships already," reported Horner. "But they're still running on Wraiths! Our Vikings are shooting them down like flies!"

"Are communications still jammed?"

"Affirmative!"

"Good," sighed Raynor, relieved. "Keep it that way! Now where the hell are General Duke's forces?"

The bridge of Norad IV was filled to the brim with officers, each working furiously and simultaneously cringing at the colorful language that would turn sailors into girls. General Winston Duke was absolutely fuming. His loud curses and declarations of violent death to the enemy led no officer to come to him with anything that was not absolutely necessary. The message from command for him to stay put had already enraged Duke enough. So much so that he decided to hell with Command.

Duke found himself in the unpleasant and rare position of berating himself. He should have kept position around the Shipyards. Thanks to his rashness, he had prepared to mobilized his fleet out to the Torus system, almost clearing Dylarian space until the trackers went wild. With every passing minute, the General grew angrier and angrier. The doubling back was certainly costing the Dominion in credits and men.

"It's General Duke!" cried a Dominion officer. "He's brought the whole fleet back with him!"

"He should have been here to begin with!" lashed out the furious Commander. "What's our status?"

"Four platforms are showing severe integral damage. The rest are holding."

"Either these guys got another card up their sleeve or they've thrown away a thousand men for nothing," muttered the Commander. "I don't want to take any chances. If we can't get communications through, we have to send a vessel to clear the jam zone and transmit a Red to Command. Get me the fastest and smallest ship we've got!"

"There!" jabbed Horner at the command screen. "They've finally gotten smart. We've got a runner here!"

Another fireball lit the bridge. Raynor shielded his eyes. "Alright, move Husky to intercept. It looks like General Duke has finally arrived to the party."

"Sir, we're outnumbered almost 3 to 1," cautioned the captain.

Raynor nodded. "Tell Jackson's Revenge they're leading the charge against Duke. Someone better inform our other friend it's time. All ships begin charging Yamato cannons. We're in it now."

In an instant, the monstrosity that was the Jackson's Revenge, turned away from the battle. It's enormous length swung wide and all smaller vessels cleared the way hastily. The two heavy cannons resting on the ship's bow were poised, restless, and ready to be discharged at the nearest target. It's engines roared and it assumed a path towards the advancing Dominion fleet, headed by Norad IV. 35 ships followed the Jackson's Revenge. Matt glanced side to side. Mercenaries, Kel-Morians, Umojans, colonists and Rebels were headed for the Dominion fleet.

A moment of silence passed. Even the orbital cannons ceased to fire for a moment. The ships on either side were nearly within range. And then the Raiders broke out into glorious cheer when they saw a familiar shimmer.

A Dominion officer paled. "Jesus! Incoming enemy contacts! We've got Protoss! We've got Protoss!"

All heads turned towards the glowing shine of the golden Protoss ships emerging from nothingness. The Jackson's Revenge was the first within range.

"Fire!" screamed Horner.

Simultaneously the twin Yamato Cannons fired off destructive salvos that smashed head on with a Dominion cruiser, sending it off in several directions as nothing more than bits and pieces. Within moments, every ship was firing its Yamato salvos. They passed flashes of orange and gave way to even larger ones.

The Protoss launched their attack as well. Hundreds of interceptors were released from their mother Carrier's bays. With unmatched numbers they blinded the motion trackers of the Dominion and swarmed over the closest ship, swallowing it in a blanket of golden elegant destruction. All manner of Protoss aircraft were engaged at once. Blue hues marked the space as respective barrages hammered Dominion ships while their shields flared up under fire.

"Fenix, glad you could make it," spoke Raynor.

"We stand by you, Raynor," declared the twice-dead Archon. "From here to the end."

"I'm guessing Braxis went well."

"Ha!" roared Fenix in laughter. "When the foolish Dominion craft reach Braxis, they will be unpleasantly surprised. "But I must focus now. I have a fleet to crush and a general to defeat!"

"Here's our chance!" commanded Jim. "Matt get us as close to the productions precinct as possible! Bring the Wallace for security. Sarah! You're up!"

Kerrigan was not at the bridge. Rather she was on the lower decks of the Hyperion with four other ghosts and a dozen marines and reapers. They were all anxious. The rumbling, thundering and all too common violent shudders of the Hyperion hull left all on edge as they could only wonder what was happening in the gigantic space warfare they were blind to. The lower decks had been sealed of windows. Generally, the engineers deemed it reasonable that those who were to drop thousands of feet shouldn't have to bear looking at the height.

The adjutant's soothing voice rang through the speakers of the lower deck. _"Mission is now active. All personnel please enter your designated drop pods. Please safety all firearms and ensure the necessary safety precautions are met. Standby for Orbital Drop."_

Once again, in the engineers' great wisdom, they decided against the inclusion of a countdown timer. Such a thing only enhanced the anxiety of the soldiers. So when Kerrigan suddenly dropped from the ship alongside her company, she nearly threw up. The Drop pods raced towards the Dylarian Shipyards. They're insertion as predicted wasn't even noticed - not with the raging battle overhead.

Only someone completely ignoring the massive battle could have detected the couple dozen drop pods, descending from the Hyperion. From a distance, it looked like nothing more than the endless shards of debris. Several friendly Vikings were clipped by the orbital cannons. They spun uncontrollably and dangerously close to Kerrigan's company.

Sarah winced as she peaked out from the small slit in her descending pod to see several pods destroyed by the crashing Viking ships. Her pod was shaking as well, no doubt sustaining the hits from all the carnage under way.

"Jim, get them off us!" screamed Kerrigan. "None of us are going to make it to the shipyards if you're drawing fire to us!"

At once, the rest of the Vikings banked left and dutiful Dominion vessels chased after them. Sarah breathed quietly. This was risky. If the Vikings had hit the package, it would all be over. She looked at the time. 3 minutes to impact. There was only one thing she prayed for. Sarah prayed that no one on the shipyards would look up.

A Carrier exploded leaving a bright blue flare and discarded parts flying everywhere. It's child Interceptors hung dead in space. Enraged Void Rays flew to take its position. With blue jets, they melted away the hulls of multiple Battlecruisers. Once fully charged, they stuck as a unit, moving slowly between enemy, all while scorching them with their warp prisms. Huge ships were split in half. Orange and yellow and red surged through the gaping wounds left in the Cruisers like lava.

"Target them!" bellowed Duke. "Bring two Valkyrie teams up and intercept them!"

The Dominion ships, smaller and faster zeroed in on the fleet of Void rays. With maximum range, they engaged, sending off missiles with a blue exhaust. Heavy and slow Protoss ships fell quickly before the others signaled retreat back to the main Protoss fleet. The Valkyries did not give up and pursued. Another of gold flashed and in moments, the Valkyrie became the hunted as dozens of Phoenix flyers gave chase. They navigated through the tight corridors between cruisers, all the while avoiding cruiser fire, and trying to keep their bearings.

The Raider ships fired more Yamato rounds. One struck a Dominion cruiser straight in the bow. The ship lost command and uncontrollably groaned and crashed into its neighbor. The pair lit up like no other. Duke had had enough.

"Break formation!" he ordered. "Pull back the vanguard. Bring Norad IV to the front. All laser batteries target the Protoss Carrier. Kill non-essential power and reroute to the Yamato Canon. Notify the rest of the fleet, we're making another push."

Nearly instantly, the giant Norad IV lurched forward with a surprising amount of speed. With a wake of broken ships, the Norad flew close. With flashes of orange flares up and about the space, the nearest Protoss Cruiser had its spotless golden hull marked with scorches and breaches. The shields were down and the ship was deadweight. Duke ordered the Norad forward and in a surprising move, it crushed the Cruiser, sending it billowing towards a colonial Battlecruiser. The impact lit a giant blue hue that enveloped the two ships and broke the optimism Matthew Horner was so desperately clinging to.

"We don't stop for anything!" roared General Duke. "We're going to cut a line straight through the enemy ranks. All power to forward weapon stations. Target the small cruiser over there! No stopping! We'll make it through the other side in victory or in bits!"

The rapid advance of Norad IV left Raider captains shocked. The Dominion flagship capitalized on this immediately. Two salvos of Yamato Cannon fire broke the small cruiser into large shards of dead steel and the constant stream of laser battery fire forced the two Nephor colonial ships back.

"Norad IV is advancing fast!" panicked Horner. "We just lost Husky. The Norad is going to spearhead the push. They're headed straight for us!"

The captain of the Hyperion was flashing through possible scenarios. Contingencies ran rampant in the innermost of his mind as the young talented captain decided on the appropriate reaction. They had the size advantage, but could they take Norad IV head on? Even Swann had predicted that Dominion weaponry improved and advanced almost weekly. That many times reincarnated monster of steel could have an ace in the hole just waiting to show it to the former Dominion yet now Raider Flagship. Raynor would know what to do. Horner glanced over to see Raynor at a different command screen, directing multiple ship at once, positioning them in the optimal site all while juggling communications with the Protoss fleet. Horner would have to make a decision.

"Umojans reporting!" declared an officer on deck. "Mira Han has engaged with our joint task force at New Folsom!"

"What?" demanded the captain.

His thoughts now vanished of the Hyperion's dilemma and was fresh with thoughts of the most wanted mercenary in the sector. The pink hair, the unnerving accent, the fixated red eye. Horner needed so desperately to understand. The beeping proximity warning was muffled and relegated to the recesses of his mind. Why was he still feeling this way? Their marriage was nothing more than a leap of faith taken with unbeknownst and unfortunate consequences.

"The Norad IV has fired on us, sir!" reported the weapons officer.

Matt ignored him. "What is happening at New Folsom?"

The communications officer was taken aback at the shift in focus, particularly at such a crucial moment. But the piercing stare of the skipper prompted him to speak. "Our New Folsom team is getting decimated right now. Mira Han's mercenaries are a lot more deadly than we expected. They should clean up in a couple hours at most. New Folsom team reports that since their objective is complete, they are preparing to pull back now before their losses become too great."

"Sir!" cried the weapons officer, yet again "Norad IV ordnance closing in fast! What counter-measures do we deploy?"

Horner ignored him again. "Tell the New Folsom team to try and take down Mira Han's flagship one last time. I want her dead, you hear me?"

"Sir!"

"What?" exploded Horner, who's scream even tore Rainier's attention away from the grand battlefield.

"Incom-"

Members onboard the bridge were thrown off their feet. Lights surged and exploded with non-regulated power. Yet the grinding sound of falling glass couldn't hold a candle to the terrifying groan of the Hyperion's structure. The room was completely dark The bridge was filled with panic as each man tried to get a hold of his bearings all while figuring out what had happened. With a sickening feeling in his gut, Matthew Horner knew exactly what had happened. Officers groped and few struggled to stand. The Emergency lights activated soon after. Men were sprawled across the floor, many with bleeding heads and bruised bodies from the violent hit they had received.

"Back to stations!" cried Horner immediately.

"Matt what the hell happened!" groaned the Commander, sporting a head wound of his own.

"We've been hit," breathed Horner, trying to get the command screen back to normal.

"I can see that!" snapped Raynor. "Why didn't we see it coming?"

"I-I...I can't discuss it right now!" barked the Hyperion Captain. "The Engineering bay has been hit! All non-essential personnel make their way to ground zero and assist. Hard to Starboard! Reroute armament power to engines and throw up a defense matrix for christ sake! Swann! Swann? We need to know the extent of the damage!"

The radio crackled. "It's Kachinsky, sir," breathed the ragged soldier.

"Get me Swann now! I need a report."

There was a brief pause. "Rory's gone."

Horner closed his eyes painfully and his heart sank to immeasurable depths. His chest heaved heavily and his mouth dried. Wild electrical sparks were still going off in the bridge. People were being helped out to the sic bay while others rushed to replace the now empty post. The emergency lighting was dim an only provided small illumination to the bridge in the form of a red glow. Horner opened his eyes and made contact with his commanding officer. His face was dark and hidden behind much shadow. That which he could see was bathed in red glare. Even so, the look between captain and commander at opposite sides of the bridge in poor lighting still connected instantly. Matt and Jim shared a hard tragic understanding.

Raynor mounted the com. "All ships, this is Raynor. The Hyperion has been hit. Repeat, the Hyperion has been hit," he reported quietly. "We are falling back from the van until we can assess the extent of the damage."

There was no battle without consequences. And Horner had personally experienced the first of many.

OOO

_Xel'Naga..._

_Xel'naga..._

_Form..._

_Purity..._

_Others..._

_First..._

_Purity..._

_Form..._

_Xel'Naga..._

_Hope..._

_Purity..._

_Prospect..._

_Xel'Naga..._

_Purity..._

_Children..._

_Purity..._

_First..._

_Shepherds..._

_Purity..._

_Xel'Naga... _

They hummed with a quiet intensity. Eyes fluttered rapidly. It was ripe with tranquility and potency. They all knew how unstable this would be. Should concentration be broken, minds would shatter, very essences destroyed and an empty husk would remain. The pain bit at their heels. The white washed over them, bathing them in a never ending shroud of radiance. So high now. So high and so bright. And at this point of luminescence and revelation, they were close now, close and strong enough to send a message unto heaven itself. The sky drew near, the immaterial endanger of becoming material, the incorporeal beginning to materialize. They could reach out and touch the face of their ancestors. A stupor of knowledge rained upon them and together they continued.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: I've learned that writing a space battle is hard and I'm not sure I've entirely done it justice but oh well.**

* * *

"Did you hear about what's happening on the Rock?"

"Nah, no one tells me anything – least of all about bloody Deadman's Rock. What's up?"

"Nothing it seems like," was the dry response. "It's a ghost town from what rumors we're hearing."

"Those pirate shits probably all left for the Brontes system. Hell, who knows why they decided to hit us now."

"God knows how much Vespene it takes just to keep this thing operational," agreed the other. "And to think a bunch of mindless bandits could do so much to the Dominion."

The conversation continued but the eavesdropper was no longer interested. The shadows were a greeting as was the soft floor that offered no sound of pacing. While the Dominion officers continued to exchange words, they failed to notice the one thing they were there for. Tiny wavers in the air were the only signs of something strange. Were one of them hypersensitive, perhaps they would have noticed the slight breeze that occurred when they were carefully passed by. The eavesdropper smiled at their oblivion. The mission would be much easier with incompetents who could not fulfill the very basics of their job descriptions.

Then again not many people could spot the Dominion's best ghost – especially if she didn't want to be found.

OOO

From the moment of landing, with only the dark and the humid product of her own labored breath surrounding her, Sarah Kerrigan knew something was wrong. She tensed, gripping her rifle with anxiety and adrenaline. Her emerald eyes narrowed as her finger moved ever closer to the trigger with each millisecond of similitude. It was but a moment yet felt like the longest stretch of time one could possibly bear. Each nanosecond, a life and each tiny moment of time, a crumbled mountain and a dried ocean. Worlds passed, lived, died. Stars burned, exhausted, blinked.

And all the while, Sarah Kerrigan stood in her small dark pocket of space, isolated from time itself as it were. And the anxiety gnawing away at her sanity, the unknown strangling her senses.

And finally, the end.

The door hissed before ejecting all together. Beams of light stung her unaccustomed eyes and she fought the urge to close her eyelids. Kicking off the back wall of her pod, she stepped foot on the Dylarian Shipyards. And her foreboding was well deserved. The metallic floor beneath her sparked furiously. The blaring of weapon discharges were dampened by the veteran's experience and Kerrigan's experience told her one thing and one thing only: hide. She dove behind a large piece of machinery that was scattered throughout the Shipyard. Swiveling her head from side to side, she saw men tumble out of their orbital pods, some with shattered visors, others with bullet ridden midsections. Few men overcame the surprise. Even fewer managed to make it to cover before the flurry of metal cut them down. Their comrades laid bleeding and dead on the cold metal floor of this daunting military industrial complex. Kerrigan thoughts flew towards a single object in horror.

The bomb!

She spotted it. Three marines were hauling it, heads low under fire. Selflessly, they detached their hardened combat shields from their forearms and placed them protectively around the bomb as they desperately hauled it and themselves to the safe haven of a mountain of metal junk. Kerrigan screamed for them to move fast. However the bomb was heavy and so to was their hope. Less than half remained of the original company. Blood laid in puddles, splashing slightly with every vibration of bullet impacts, heavy running and the intensity of the moment itself. The three marines were almost there. They were almost in arms distance.

"Watch out!" was the cry.

Moments later, an explosive struck the shield covered bomb. The explosion threw back the accompanying marines, not even a second spared for a cry of pain, leaving the bomb to precariously fall and leave a heavy thud as it hit the ground. Two men broke cover and hauled the bomb back to cover. Kerrigan desperately removed the shields sighing in utter relief to find that the shields had thwarted the damage. It must have been a grenade from a Marauder with a damn good shot. Kerrigan did a head count. 5 marines and 4 Reapers left.

"Command, this is Kerrigan," she reported, loudly. "LZ is hot, repeat our LZ is hot! We must have overshot our landing! We have received heavy casualties! We need evac! Or reinforcements, or anything!"

The voice on the other end, eased Kerrigan but only for a second. For in that second, Kerrigan identified tragedy in Raynor's voice as he spoke to her, miles away.

"Acknowledged ground team," he forced out, gruffly. "Exfiltration denied. Sarah, we need that bomb to get to the target or else all this will have been in vai-"

The radio crackled and was cut off. Kerrigan felt her heart jump and her blood freeze, even in this hell.

"We have our hands full at the moment!" shouted Raynor into the radio as it found life once more. "If I can spare it, I have another cruiser circle around with reinforcements. Until then, make do with what you've got and push to the target! Command out!"

Kerrigan wanted to smash her fist in frustration but doing so would only incite further desolation in the remainder of her company. They gazed at her with sad eyes. She held their lives in her hands. She would hold them tightly against her breast or see them torn from her arms. Sadness? Disappointment? Expectation? Sarah didn't know. But she did know that they needed to get out of there fast. A lightning fast peek showed Kerrigan a 20 man strong regiment of marines and marauders, holding fast, dismayed that they hadn't fast enough fingers to take Kerrigan's head, but ever vigilant thereafter. Both sides knew the same thing. There was no way Kerrigan's team could break through that team. The reapers knew it as well.

"Give us thirty seconds mam," spoke a Reaper. "We'll lead these metal junkies away so the rest of the company can proceed to the target site."

"4 Reapers against 20 Marauders and Marines?" asked Sarah softly. "Doesn't look good from any angle soldier."

"Except for yours," stated another Reaper. "And right now, yours is the only one that matters."

"Don't worry about us, mam, those brutes can't hurt us if they can't even catch us. We'll lead them on a chase around the whole damn Shipyard. We can outrun them for sure."

Kerrigan nodded her head ever so slightly and with an appropriate swoosh of jetpacks, the Reapers were gone, wildly firing their large pistols and hurling their D-8 charges at their pursuers. They climbed high with their jetpacks out of view from Kerrigan and the marines. Like expected, the Dominion regiment gave chase, leaving Kerrigan with the doleful thought, knowing full well that even Reapers couldn't outrun bullets.

The sacrifice would not be idly wasted. Kerrigan ordered her marines up and moving the second she deemed it safe. Their bearings were off. The firefight mid flight must have thrown off the trajectory of the orbital drop.

They were not in the deserted junkyard of the Dylarian Shipyards as planned. No, their vector had placed them in the center of the central barracks facilities. Before the ground team stood buildings still in construction. The steel frame soared above their heads. It lacked the walls but Kerrigan knew that men could be anywhere. As one, they pushed forward. The marines had already dutifully given their shields to the bomb, thus encasing it even further behind layers of metal alloy the likes of which would require much more than gauss to penetrate.

Every angle was checked. Every shadow was squinted upon. Each noise required a muzzle quickly snapped at its general direction. Inwardly, Kerrigan thanked her blessings. It seemed the majority of the sizable crew in the Shipyards had been mobilized to the many hanger bays. The fact that every man on the Shipyards doubled as a distinguished pilot eased the door open for the ground team but didn't bold well to the battle above their heads. They saw figures in the distance, hardly distinguishable to any one without such a demanding set of skills.

"Patrol," whispered a marine. "We need to take them quietly."

They set down the bomb, behind a lonesome Battlecruiser spare part. Kerrigan immediately switched her C-10 rifle to sniper rounds and chambered in a round. Her aim steadied as she raised her rifle to her shoulder and took a hard knee. Exhaling slowly, she squeezed the trigger.

The first show struck one man in the head. Kerrigan switched targets quickly. Her second shot was true as well. The third went wide and by that time, the last member of the patrol acted immediately. He began to raise his rifle. Before he could, no less than a dozen bullets tore through his shields and flung him on his back.

Kerrigan turned, irritated as the smoking muzzles of the four marines gave her hints as to what had happened. They waited. They waited for something - anything. But there was nothing. The six pairs of eyes rolled around every inch of their sockets, attempting to detect anything. But they could't find it. Perhaps they had gotten lucky. Perhaps there was no one who noticed the firing. There was only one way to find out. Kerrigan gave the order. The five marines holstered their rifles and lifted up the bomb, breaking cover to continue towards their goal. But 3 short cracks were followed a flurry of curses. The bomb dropped again.

"Jesus!" cried Sarah as she witnessed the helmet of one of her marines roll by her foot with shattered glass and splattered blood.

"We lost Jacobs and Porter!"

"Keep your heads down!" ordered Kerrigan.

Her ghost training began to kick in. There were three shooters. For now, Sarah would have to play cat and mouse.

This place was a maze. Whatever industrial machinations were happening here must have certainly had the complexities to match its architectural layout. Corridor after corridor, turn after turn. It was disorientating. And Sarah realized that was exactly what it was designed for.

This place really was nigh impregnable. They were putting its reputation to the test and Sarah knew that soon they would find out what happened when an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

OOO

"God damn it," growled Horner.

The damage wasn't good. Thankfully the blast had spared the engines but instead gone for the armory. They lost dozens of Thors to space and abruptly jettisoned many of their other machines of war into the blackness. The sealing had just started and to top it all of, their lead engineer was taken down with the blast. Horner winced. He knew that Raynor and Rory were rather close.

It was her.

What had once spurred ire now gave forth fury with rage to boot. She had caused this. Even in a time like this, her mere name distracted him, took him away from his battle, his responsibility. What was with her? Why was he so weak to it? More frantic shouts shook the Hyperion captain from his deep thoughts.

He had to deal with the mess he and that girl had brought upon the rest of the crew. The introspection of the entity of Mira Han would have to wait.

The Hyperion was in full retreat. It was scattering the formation of the Battlecruisers, leaving Raynor to frustratingly micromanage the position of each. Friendly Battlecruisers struggled to make way for the huge Hyperion to retreat. Enemy Battlecruisers, eager for blood and rejuvenated by its shedding, pressed on.

But worst of all, the Norad IV was not stopping.

Two identified Sara colony vessels made a pass at Duke's flagship's underbelly only to tragically find that the vessel's weaponry was well distributed. Their tops were up in flame and the captains desperately struggled to clear out from under the massive Norad IV. The attempt to force Duke back wasn't working.

"We're hot on the Hyperion's trail!" cried an officer. "Yamato cannon is nearly recharged."

"Chase them down!" bellowed the vicious General. "If there's even the slightest chance of taking down that ship, we're going to take it! Full speed ahead!"

The crew of another Dominion vessel watched this spectacle. Although, one could say their allegiances were not in line with their vessel designation. Horace Warfield watched starstruck as General Duke pushed through enemy lines giving chase to their flagship.

"Audacious," he muttered. "He is a Duke, though."

But the General was no man that simply watched the unfolding of events. He stood up, commanding the attention of his officers.

"We're going to protect the Hyperion in its retreat," he declared, coolly. "Hard to port! Give the dear general a volley of the Minotaur Missile Pods. Let's see if my successor was a rightful appointment."

The Dominion ship, the Vetruvian, turned abruptly. It's side panels shifted and revealed explosive ordnance masked behind the thick metal hull. With a sigh of exhaust, the ship let loose its share of missile pods with trailing gas exhaust to match. They struck the Norad IV directly in its side. The very hull of the ship lurched violently from the volley. Duke grabbed hold of the nearest chair to keep himself upright. Eyes narrowed, he gazed off to his left. Cries of subordinate officers about damage reports fell mute on him as his gaze pierced the vastness of space and ran through the bridge of the attacking Battlecruiser.

"Well, well," snarled Duke. "If it isn't the traitor."

"Sir, we've taken heavy damage!" reported an officer. "Another volley of that could cleave us in half! Orders?"

Duke swore. "Fine! Break off pursuit, lose the extra energy output to engines and forward it to the laser batteries. Swing 'round and hit that traitor's ship with all we've got!"

"Sir, maybe we should wait for reinf-"

"Prep the cannon!" roared General Duke with a might that no one on deck was willing to challenge.

Space gobbled up the roaring of engines no more. Its flaring ceased and the Norad IV slowed while beginning a malicious swing towards Warfield's ship. The wink of orange was caught by Warfield only a second too late. Before the general could order another volley, Duke surprisingly responded swiftly with a Yamato salvo. The Vetruvian wasn't know for its stellar defense. Warfield had to pray this would work.

"Mark the trajectory!" barked the former Dominion Armada commander.

"Sir the ship isn't agile enough to allow us to maneuver away from attack," reported his subordinate.

"Good thing we aren't going to do that," Warfield snapped. "Fire our Yamato cannon – intercept course."

The orders were followed nearly instantly. Their very own salvo of destruction was thrown out of the ship with haste. The two tiny stars launched at each other. Their forces negated the other but gave way to a surge of power so much so that the Vetruvian felt it even at the extended range. Warfield's ship wobbled uneasily.

"Report!"

"The salvo's been neutralized. But our forward systems are acting haywire! Tracking systems are offline. Our laser batteries aren't all responding and the Yamato Cannon is acting up! If the cannon is unstable it'll take the whole ship down with it!"

General gazed intently at his opponent, hoping that his adversary was indeed every bit of a Duke. And moments later, he validated his lineage. In another onslaught of offensives, the Norad IV pushed towards Warfield, already eager to claim a new target. It's laser batteries blasted away, smashing the bow of Warfield's ship with a might of God. Warfield and his crew cringed with every strike, waiting – ever waiting.

Thankfully, they didn't need to wait long. Kel-Morian ships were closing in. They surrounded the Norad, closing of escape. By now, Warfield knew that Duke was aware. The Norad stopped dead in its tracks. Had it a head, it would surely be reeling in confusion and desperation as its captain and general did similarly.

Duke, bewildered, screamed at another officer. "Where's our backup! How the hell did they get the flank? Where are our boys?"

"We're deep in enemy lines, general! The other ships couldn't match our offensive. We're all alone out here!"

For the first time, the general's face fell – and it did so hard with enlightenment. He had taken the bait. He had gotten greedy and ambitious. His ship was smack in the middle of enemy ranks. He was surrounded and cut off. He felt it deep in his own body as he could nearly feel the smirk that his predecessor was giving him now. It was a smirk of victory and for Duke it was the mark of defeat.

"Once a Duke…" whispered the general. "…always."

"We've lost contact with Norad IV!" exclaimed a Dominion officer.

The captain of the Dominion Ire spoke deeply. "I'm assuming control of the fleet. Break off the push - our forward ranks are getting battered. All ships, hard to port. All Minotaur Missile Pods launch!"

With frightening coordination, the battle group turned instantly and together they let loose their primary salvo of Missile Pods. They streaked through space towards the opposing fleet, now being helmed by the Pinnacle. Smaller fighters on both sides were caught in this wave of destruction and they simply went up in flames, adding to its potency.

"Point defense drones now!" bellowed Raynor.

The missiles were closing in fast. The bleakness was just about overwhelming. But if one were to look closely, they'd see tiny satellite objects, hovering just before the ships. The buffer, small as it was, would make all the difference in the end. In a matter of milliseconds, enemy projectiles were identified and defensive measures were activated. The floating defense drones spun furiously on their own axis, firing off small red beams as they did. The missiles were struck with laser precision, each bursting upon impact. The space was bright with fire. Between the two fleets laid a smoking ruin of a hellish flame wall risen up and created by the powers it separated. A divide of fire was as terrifying as it was magnificent. Even those on the Shipyards could feel its heat. For as tumultuous battle continued, heads were raised to the skies and in horror realized hell was waiting for them any which way.

It wasn't long though, until the power of man was once again contested by the omniscient nature. The faculty of space gobbled up the flames and sent it back into the dark abyss where it would forever ponder an instant amongst the vast eternity of its ever superior.

The Jackson's Revenge took the initiative. Kel-Morian ships were quick to follow and colonial ships took the hint as well. Mighty Protoss Carriers waited with bays of Interceptors as they readied for the end of the interbellum. With Hyperion in the rear, the might of the Rebel fleet advanced upon the starstruck Dominion forces who for a second, thought they saw the glimpse of a smoking cruiser, descending defeated.

It was damned. And so were they.

The decision was instantaneous and unanimous. With as much speed as these massive hulks of metal could manage, the Dominion ships turned about, their engines heaving as they flared. The sight of the Dominion ships' rears was a rare sight for enemies of the empire. Such an anomaly now could only mean one thing.

"The Dominion Fleet is retreating!" cried Horner.

Raynor wouldn't be satisfied yet. "All ships rally to the Hyperion and lets hit the Shipyards with all we got! The Dominion will know what's happening soon enough and we gotta make sure that this damned place is nothing more than a pile of scrap metal by the time they get here!"

OOO

The third body fell from the building with a sickening thud that Kerrigan had become accustomed to. She counted her blessings. Whatever was happening in the skies above had been large enough to draw the last sniper's attention away from the battlefield for just a moment. In that moment, Sarah struck and left a bullet cleanly lodged into the final shooter's head.

It had taken far too long. Sarah knew that others must have been alerted by now. With urgency, the last three marines in her company leapt to their feet, pushing off the ground knowing full well that were it a few moments later, they would witness Dominion forces pouring out onto the streets in numbers.

The loud cracks of rifles barely sparked a reaction from the ground team. It was an inevitable they had already come to accept. They had been spotted. Kerrigan twisted her neck, looking behind her as she sprinted forward. There were a lot of men at their heels - thirty? Forty?

Two marines ran in front of her carrying the bomb. Kerrigan no longer heard the footsteps of the last marine. Without looking, she knew why. They were down to three now. Three against forty.

"Drop the bomb!" panted Kerrigan. "Hide it under some degree and take positions around it."

It mattered little. The bomb was hidden but under superior numbers, the two marines were cut down immediately. Kerrigan could feel the Shipyard security breathing down her neck. Tearing her eyes away from the last two members of her team, now covered with glass and blood Kerrigan cloaked. She wished it was magic. She wished it was more than a technological cover up. Sarah wished the she had actually vanished - there one second, gone the next. But only her body had gone. Her mind was still there and it searched. It searched desperately for options.

They'd find the bomb eventually. As Sarah kept thinking, panic crept into her mind like a disease. She couldn't take on that many soldiers while heaving a gigantic bomb under her arm. And there was no way she could grab the bomb and slip away from the company without someone noticing. She was cordoned off and surrounded completely. Soldiers drew dangerously near. Sarah smelt the bitter smell of war on their faces. The grime, sweat and gunpowder profusely fell over the invisible ghost.

Sarah knew a suicide run when she saw one. But there was no choice. Her back was against the wall. The rest of her company was dead. Fire burned in the sky above. A drop of sweat fell down her visage and she knew it was time to move. Time to make that gamble.

She felt the power within her spark and give her stomach a flutter. A comforting warmth crept into her body and Sarah threw her outstretched arm out towards a huddle of soldiers. The sky of space had faded from flames back to twilight. But with one crackle, and one thought, the blackness of the twilight vanished for a sizzle of blue sparks that grew larger and more potent with each passing moment. The psionic storm reached its full intensity and it gave Sarah shivers as it fed off her psionic energy and tormented those under its might.

Sarah bolted, knowing full well that she no longer had the energy for her cloak after that psionic storm. She heard the screams and the awe. It was by far the largest storm she had ever created, as her or the Queen of Blades. But it still wasn't enough. How many had she taken out? Maybe twenty at most? The looming threat did not cease and Kerrigan knew that the remainder of them had to have a clue of what was going on by now. Kerrigan hoped they would not cross paths. In between downed machinery she ran. Over heaps of scrap metal she leaped. And whipping her head behind her, she thought she had gotten lucky.

The voice made her heart jump.

"Don't you move!" roared a voice.

Kerrigan swung her head around to see no less than a dozen armed Dominion soldiers with weapons aimed right for her. Behind her, Sarah heard the furious marching of other men, no doubt coming to surround her. She did nothing for the moment. Her body was still but her mind crazed and fired off in every direction for some hint as to what to do.

"Drop your weapon!"

Kerrigan looked around desperately. Her finger rested on her rifle trigger. Some of her damp red hair was plastered against the side of her head. The remains of a messy ponytail swung behind her back from side to side like a pendulum. Kerrigan used her hair as a metronome, flying back and forth ideas only to find each just as unfeasible as the next.

"I won't ask you again! Drop the-"

The shadow passed over the men in front first. By the time Kerrigan realized they had stop talking, the shadow was over her as well. For the Dominion soldiers, it was a nightmare, a realization of damnation and a token from hell itself. For the lone ghost though, it was a godsend. With all eyes horrifically glued to the perpetrator of the shadow, Kerrigan took another deep breath and raised her arm.

The sky sparked blue once more. Before the soldiers realized it, they had been caught again in another storm. It wasn't strong enough to kill them, but enough to send the to their knees in pain. Sarah ran for her life. Others had finally taken hint of her escape but they weren't chasing her. No they too were running for their lives. The shadow's area grew wider and wider. It and its maker grew closer and closer. Everyone heard the failing engine. They heard the groaning structure. And they heard the dying Battlecruiser.

Sarah was forcefully thrown from her feet. The sheer power of the Battlecruiser hitting the Shipyards sent everyone on their backs. Buildings were taken out as the downed Battlecruiser continued its crash course, lighting sparks and causing carnage. Sarah could't hear the cries of the soldiers over the devastating effect of the Battlecruiser.

But it was still moving. The inertia it carried was incomprehensible and Sarah, so shook from the rumble could scarcely get to her feet. She crawled, throwing her rifle ahead of her and using whatever means of traction she could find to inch her way away from being crushed. The ship finally came to a screeching halt, leaving a path of utter devastation in its path. Sarah looked up and saw the hull emblazoned with a once powerful title.

NORAD IV

And for the moment, Kerrigan was taken away from the scene as she had previously desired. Somehow, within the recesses of her mind, something emerged. Something that she, so caught up in the current events, had not thought about since her time on Haven. It was almost exactly like this. She remembered. And she remembered it distinctly. Tentatively getting to her feet, she was almost haunted by how authentic it was. She wanted to touch the hull, but feared that it would have the same texture as the one four years ago. It was just like this, so similar, so hauntingly similar. And apart from slightly different angle of the last two symbols, Kerrigan believed she was four years past.

A crash of metal drew Kerrigan's attention. It would be loud by most standards but after the deafening crash of the Norad IV, it was hardly a whisper. Following the minuscule noise, raspy coughs were heard and Sarah saw a silhouette topple from the huge ship. Rifle in hand, she edged carefully towards the figure on its back. It rose slowly, grasping its side and groaning in pain. Thick blood rolled down the side of its face. The white in its eyes was so much accentuated by the scarlet of his blood and the black of his pupils. Painfully so, the eyes disappeared behind tired layers of thin flesh. Wrinkled, scarred and bloodied, the figure struggled to open its eyes again.

It was a man. But Kerrigan already knew that.

The man coughed blood, heaving over and showing his shoulder.

The man was a general. But Kerrigan already knew that.

The general stood, as proudly as he could in his stance. He showed his full face, bloodied and all, to Kerrigan.

The general was a Duke. But Kerrigan already knew that.

"Screw it," he rasped. "Screw Mengsk. Screw the Shipyards. Screw the Dominion. Screw you and your sorry bunch of ragtag deadbeats. Screw the war and the aliens and the maker. Screw it all."

Kerrigan saw the man in front of her, defeated, hanging onto life by a thread. But it would surely snap. Sarah's head was spinning. She hated the moment. She hated this reproduction. But it wasn't perfect. No, something was off. Something was different.

She was different.

With the scene nearly recreated before her eyes, she could picture it vividly. The past memories rushing before her mind. Norad III, a downed battlecruiser, a silhouette, a man, a general, a Duke. The torturing, the slow death, the sick pleasure in it as if sustenance itself came from the general's screams.

"Well?" demanded Winston Duke. His arms hung dead at his side and his back hunched over. "Do your worst then, girl."

Sarah wondered if this man could have had her insight, would he view her actions differently? She wondered if he had her perspective, would her actions be perceived as mercy? Perhaps not, but it did not deter her in the slightest.

She squeezed the trigger. The general's head snapped back, blood already pooling from the fresh wound as his body toppled back. There was no cry, no scream, no noise except for the crack of the rifle and the slump of the body. There was no extension except for the time from which the bullet travelled to the brain. There was no suffering, no pain except for the briefest of moments.

Kerrigan looked down at Winston Duke, a general dead and his four time reincarnated ship in smoking ruins. She had just saved him from a cruel end. And in doing so, she believed she saved a little bit of herself in the process.

A screaming bullet broke the tranquility. Kerrigan instinctively dove to the ground. A massive sized hole ripped through the hull of the Norad IV. The hole left in the bullet's wake was larger than a combat suit's fist. Kerrigan recognized this. She had seen this weapon used before. But never against her. She didn't want to think about the pulpy mass of blood and flesh she would be should she suffer a direct hit. Her arm throbbed merely from being near the bullet's pathway. Cover was useless. She knew the rifle could shoot right through it. Cloak was useless. She knew the rifle had heat vision. She had to keep moving. That's all that could be done.

Another infinitely large bullet soared over her head, and another and another. There was more than one sniper.

Her feet danced a unpredictable path. The shooters apparently wanted to conserve the precious and expensive bullets they had. They stayed their trigger fingers, waiting for a moment to take out the nimble ghost. Sarah would not give them that chance. She squeezed the earpiece in her ear.

"Jim I need help now!" she shouted. "My company is down, I almost got crushed by what's left of Norad IV and now I'm being shot at with Mark 12 caliber!"

"Affirmative," replied an unknown voice. "Orbital strike incoming."

Sarah heard the pod almost instantly, as if it had been launched prior to their conversation. The pod was larger than most Sarah had seen and definitely larger than the ones they had infiltrated in. She didn't realize she had stopped moving and had to quickly jump out of the way as another daunting Penetrator Round went soaring over her head. Sarah's ribs were sore from all the falling but she could give up yet. She heard the pod's door hiss and fly off. However another round landed right next to her foot and the power was so great it sent her flying from her feet, landing painfully on her shoulder.

The ghost barely scrambled up to her feet before yet another round made dust of the ground before her. She whipped her head around and realized why the orbital pod had been so big. They had sent her a tank.

"Orders mam!"

"Red Factory!" panted Kerrigan as she continued moving. "Second level, left side!"

The speedy gears began turning. Years of military technology was being put to work and the lovechild of the world's most brilliant engineers came to life as the siege tank transformed into siege mode. It's giant shock cannon stood high and it swiveled loudly and purposefully. Through the giant scope of the high powered rifle, Kerrigan could imagine seeing her shooters' eyes grow wide - filled with horrid anticipation.

Sarah saw the factory go up in smoke. Enough of this and she'd soon go deaf. The spent explosive casing was jettisoned from behind the tank giving Sarah a sense of how devastating the round had been. Smoke covered the area, a massive hole left in the clearing and a satisfied ghost. Sarah's breath slowed. An eery silence crept over them. With a heavy heave, the scarlet ghost lifted the bomb hidden in the debris onto the back of the tank. Sarah rested her head against the warm steel of the Tank.

"Let's get this bomb in place and get out of here."

OOO

"I don't like it either," persisted Valerian. "But like it or not, Korhal City isn't too happy with the throne right now. Father, be reasonable. You're going to give a televised speech to the planet at the UNN headquarters, right in the middle of downtown Korhal City. You could get many supporters from here if you simply allowed Korhal City constabulary an audience during your speech. It's a smart move."

"Sounds like bloody appeasement to me," rebuked the Emperor, roughly. "I've kissed enough of Korhal City's ass for two lifetimes. How many times are they going to get me to kneel? No more! This is the last time! Once this is through, I swear I'm not giving this city a moment of my attention until I am laid to rest!"

"Understood, father." Valerian was calmer than before. His palms sweated slightly and he quickly removed the moisture. It was happening.

The UNN tower had been the first building in the entire city to undergo reconstruction. As if goading them, the UNN building stood as a gem amongst the neighboring damaged metropolitan buildings surrounding it. Valerian knew his father kept very close ties with the UNN Chairman - something he both enjoyed and regretted. Valerian marched with a dozen or so Korhal City guards behind him - each bearing the same look in the eyes - each bearing loyalty to Superintendent Rothman and by extension, the Prince of the Dominion.

The elevator was spacious and luxurious. The party was able to fit in as one, much to the Emperor's disdain. A lengthy vertical climb up the tallest building on the planet ended when the golden doors hissed open and the Chairman was waiting to greet them. His fake words fell on deaf ears for Valerian. The Prince knew of his cowardice, his conniving ways and his manipulative disposition.

It was almost time.

The Emperor pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the Chairman's office - where it had been planned to record the speech. It overlooked the mightiest of views with a total surveillance but satisfying isolation. Valerian and his company marched behind him. Valerian kept close eyes on the ground. With amazing scrutiny, he managed to deduct a small anomaly in the floor. It was as if someone was standing there, but at the same time not. Slightly to the right, he saw it again, the mark of a foot without the visible foot itself - an indication of where the two ghosts lurked in the shadows.

The Korhal guard breathed from their nostrils, trying to ready themselves. Most had already deduced where the two body guards were hiding and made note of their location. The Emperor took deep stripes into the office. He rested his large hands against the windows overlooking a precarious distance. Valerian viewed his father from a distance. It was time.

A tiny sound, broke the trust, the status quo and the peace. It was the sound of a door being locked. Valerian stepped forward confidently. Arcturus Mengsk, his father, and ruler of the Terran Dominion maintained an indiscernible face before his eyes narrowed. He spoke, ever softly.

"Et tu, Brute?"


End file.
